Let Me Give the World to You
by stumbleine33
Summary: Alternate telling of S8 past Episode 16. Castiel awakens in the Winchester bunker only to discover that he is all too human and has no recollection of what has transpired. Dean and Sam help him discover what being human is about. Chapter titles refer to songs. Playlist on youtube (dot) com (slash) watch?v Iugr-yPgQgQ&list PLONmctsudSI9x7DSX5ZBeVaPKVW12rpBT
1. Chapters 1 & 2

**Chapter 1**: What Makes a Man

Castiel wakes slowly at first, one eye opening at a time. He blinks several times, adjusting to the low lighting in the room. A throbbing pain in his head is a welcome reminder to his current predicament. Castiel looks slowly at his hands first, noticing the cuts that are scabbing over. He has to summon all his strength to ignore the splitting in his head, as he gazes at his surroundings.

There are books, so many books. Castiel has to almost squint to make out some of the titles. Sam is on his laptop at a large table in the center of the room. Sam's eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks as if he is concentrating. He slides his gaze from the words on his screen, over to the man in the armchair who has been sleeping for days. Sam springs up the second his eyes meet Castiel's open stare. Castiel relaxes only slightly, now knowing who he is with.

"Cas! You're finally awake!" Sam exclaims, his voice soft and gentle. His long strides have him standing beside Castiel in only a moment. He puts one hand on Castiel's shoulder and looks at him, concerned.

Castiel doesn't feel quite like standing yet, yes, he'd like to probably sit more, he thinks. His head is muddled and he's unsure about a few of his senses. He can't seem to remember much right now, but it is comforting that Sam isn't angry with him right now.

This throws up a small red flag in Castiel's mind, but he ignores it for now. Why would Sam be angry with him? He knows there's more to that feeling of relief at being treated as a friend, but he simply does not have the energy to expend on trying to recall what he has done.

"Hi Sam, yeah, I'm...fine, I think" he finally answers, aware that he had probably taken too long to answer Sam's question, judging by the pained expression Sam is wearing.

"God dammit!" Castiel hears a man explain in a loud, aggravated voice from another room. He head is still cloudy but he thinks that is the familiar voice of only one man ; Dean Winchester. Castiel smiles a little bit and looks up at Sam, who has never seemed quite so tall before. Castiel closes his eyes once more, as the pain in his head has reached immeasurable heights.

Sam squeezes his shoulder gently and says he will be right back. Castiel leans back in his chair, noticing for the first time that he is in new clothing. He is wearing plaid pajama bottoms, blue and grey striped, as well as a grey undershirt that is slightly too large on his frame. Castiel feels almost nude for the first time, and wonders if this is what Adam and Eve felt as they first took notice of their naked forms. He smiles, feeling silly, and still very groggy.

He looks upwards as Sam and Dean walk back into the room. Dean is following behind Sam slightly, wiping his hands on a towel. His eyes meet Castiel's, and Castiel feels a distinct and not completely unfamiliar increase in his heart rate. Castiel finds himself unable to tear his gaze away from Dean's eyes, that are so confusing to read.

Castiel wonders again, if he has recently caused some of the pain that he can see in Dean's eyes. Castiel isn't sure how to handle himself, again feeling the unwelcome sensation of body and limb. Castiel isn't sure why he has the notion to stand, that this will somehow make everyone more comfortable, but he does. Without breaking eye contact with Dean, he stands slowly.

A moment passes between them, as Dean seems to have re-assessed the situation. Dean's green eyes soften slightly, and he runs a hand absently along the back of his neck. He looks down quickly, and back towards Sam, who is leaning against the large table with his arms crossed. Dean waits another moment before striding forward towards Castiel, and pulling him into a strong embrace.

Castiel allows himself this human comfort, one that he has grown so fond of. Particularly from this human. He revels in this small human touch, that feels an awful lot like resurfacing from a drowning tide. Castiel meets Sam's eyes behind Dean's back, which are narrowed in contemplation. Castiel feels slightly embarrassed and once again naked. He pulls away from Dean, as he feels his strength failing once again and that now familiar dizziness.

Dean's expression softens even more, as he takes in the damage. Castiel notices him exchange a quick glance with Sam, their words without words. Castiel is no stranger to this, having seen them communicate whole strategic military plans with only their expressions.

"Hey uh, Cas, would you want some food?" Dean asks tentatively, bordering on sadness.

Castiel smiles and lets out a small laugh. "You know this already Dean, angels don't need to eat or sleep..." Castiel says, his voice small and beginning to trail off. The signs were all there, but he had been too preoccupied to really notice.

The scabs, the lights, the headache, and worst of all...the hunger. Castiel felt his world simultaneously crashing down, yet the most complete and sincere sense of salvation. He meets Dean's gaze again, before look at Sam. The Winchester brothers, the great hunters, some of the best humans out there, in Castiel's humble opinion. They were here, regarding him as one of their own, and he felt honored. He was nothing, if he was not an angel, Castiel knew that. Yet here he was, and he wasn't sure he felt entirely sad about it. Not here, not right now.

With a smile, tugging at the corner of his mouth, Castiel nods. He isn't sure he can say it yet, that he is hungry. That word carries such tremendous weight, and Castiel now has a word to describe a growing and gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach, at the center of his core. He is hungry, and not only for food.

**Chapter 2**: With a Little Help from my Friends

Castiel is sitting across from Sam, patiently waiting for dinner. He supposed he should be asking more questions, since his memory isn't all there, but he still doesn't feel entirely comfortable conversing with Sam alone. They have a complicated past, a complicated friendship. Though Castiel does regard Sam as a friend, Sam is also a constant reminder of what he has done and the pain he has caused. No, he can't just ask Sam to explain why he is here, wherever this is. He can't ask Sam how he got here, and why he is in his present state. He'd wait for Dean, who was apparently all too happy to cook them all some dinner.

Castiel decides a more polite route than silence, would be to ask Sam about dinner. "Do you know what Dean is cooking?" he asks, aware of his stomach grumbling slightly.

Sam laughs and shakes his head a little bit. "I wouldn't believe if it I were you, but ya, Dean actually like to cook and he's pretty darn good at it."

"Our first night here, he made some amazing burgers, and I was really shocked. I mean, he still messes up sometimes and he always forget to thaw the beef ahead of time" Sam says, laughing a little. Castiel smiles at the imagery as well as he notices Dean walking out of a room in the back, presumably the kitchen. He is carrying 3 plates, balancing them as he walks slowly.

He looks up and his eyes meet Castiel's, and he grins a little bit. He sets a plate down in front of Cas, and then in front of Sam. Castiel watches quietly as Dean sits next to Sam, and he notices that the two of them seem to be at ease and on good terms with each other. This makes him incredibly happy, and slightly hopeful as well for some reason.

"Eat up, Cas!" Dean says, ready to dig into his own burger. Castiel doesn't really need much more encouragement, as he eats his burger in less than a minute. The sensation of hunger is so entirely new, and in the reverse sense, the feeling of satiation is as well. He feels immensely satisfied with the act of appeasing such a carnal urge.

"That was amazing, thank you Dean" he says fondly, aware that he has no experience in making food of any sort.

"Do you want another? I mean, you've been out for four days now, and you know...people gotta eat." Dean says, clearly trying to avoid the topic of Castiel's lack of angel grace...or well, Castiel's humanity. Castiel tries to assess his own needs, that he has never experienced before. His headache has almost evaporated, which Castiel assumes was due to hunger. He is sure he could eat more, and he is reminded of a time, years ago, that he ate hundreds of burgers. That would definitely be inappropriate and gluttonous, he thinks. He looks at Dean, who is standing up, ready to get some more food for them.

Castiel squints his eyes a bit in question and asks, "Are you eating another, Dean?"

Dean laughs and says yes, patting Sam on the back as he says "Three more coming up."


	2. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**: Undisclosed Desires

Once everyone has finished eating, Castiel figures it would be best to find out what was going on. He had been occupied with the pleasurable act of eating, and had barely looked up from his food, devouring 3 burgers. Now he feels extremely full, almost to the point of pain, and this is so entirely new and foreign to him. Looking up at Dean, he can see the worry in those green translucent eyes. Castiel smiles to himself. He does not understand humans, but he can understand Dean. At least Dean wears his expressions out in the open.

"Dean, Sam. I would like you to be honest with me, and explain to me what I have done."

A moment passes between the brothers, and Castiel is unsure of its meaning. Dean nervously runs his hands through his hair and Sam lets out a small exhale. The air in the room seems to stagnate, and Castiel can feel his own body heat beginning to rise. He looks at his hands nervously, at the small cuts on each knuckle, just now healing over. His dark blue eyes start to feel heavy, and he isn't sure what this feeling is. He feels longing, and sadness.

Looking back up towards Dean, Castiel gulps and gives him a pleading look.

Dean blinks several times uncertainly, before saying "Look, Cas, it's complicated and you didn't do anything wrong...and well, it wasn't you when you did."

Castiel looks from Dean to Sam, and back to Dean. They both seem in agreement about this fact.

"What are you saying?"

"Dammit Cas, this isn't really something we need to talk about right now. You're barely back on your feet, and you are lucky to be alive."

Castiel's eyes darken for a moment, annoyance flickers across his face. He hates being treated like an infant, most of all from Dean. He inhales slowly, and exhales. The act of breathing is calming, and although he didn't need to breathe as an angel, Castiel regularly employed it as a calming technique for himself. He was happy to note that it still worked.

"Do you think this is really something that can wait? You are both obviously aware that I am now, simply put, human"

"I know it's gotta be hard Cas, but you gotta trust us, this is the only way" Sam says, reassuringly. As much as Castiel doesn't want to listen, Sam has a way of stating things kindly and with empathy. For a second, Castiel wonders why he was so particularly fond of Dean, who's skull could be as think as a rock.

Castiel tries to look calm, but the panic in his eyes give him away. It had been said. Castiel had said that he was human, and Sam had acknowledged that this was a true fact, and not only that but that it had been the only way.

"The only way for what?" Castiel spits out, surprising himself and wounding both Dean and Sam.

"The only way to get you out alive, Cas!" Dean says, throwing his hands in the air, his voice rising with each word and falling silent on his name.

"Did you think that maybe I didn't want to be saved, Dean?" Castiel says, quietly, prodding at something that they all know is there. The guilt, the shame, the pain. Castiel feels naked again, out of control, and he wants nothing but to be angry and forgiven at the same time. His eyes focus on Dean once more, unable to stay away from his face for too long, and then glance over at Sam again.

Sam is taking small breaths and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He looks slightly like he is preparing to run away. He furrows his eyebrows at Castiel and tilts his head a little bit to the side, analyzing and assessing. Sam is smart, and despite his hulking frame and tortured past, he is kind to the point of sickness. He seems to come to some conclusion, and what he says next shocks Castiel.

"Would you want to talk to Dean alone?" Sam looks at the floor and runs his eyes across the floor, towards the door. He pauses for a moment before continuing. "I'm here for you Cas, I really am, but whatever happened in purgatory or whatever with you two. You know, if you gotta work something out, I understand."

Castiel feels his heart sink a little, ashamed as his own treatment of the two best humans he has ever known. No, in fact, they were better than most angels. After everything he had done to Sam, and here he was, knowing when to hold him up and when to leave.

"Thank you Sam, actually, I do think that would be best."

Sam gives a small nod, looks at Dean, unspoken words passing between them. Sam grabs his coat that is hanging off the back of his chair and snatches the keys from an end table near the door. He holds them up for Dean to see, implying "I'm taking the car and that is fine, right?" Dean barely looks at Sam, his eyes gazing at Castiel, squinting.

Castiel isn't sure how to read Dean this time. Dean is angry, exasperated, but also hurt. Mostly hurt. Castiel decides that he prefers the anger. He contemplates saying something that would make Dean angry, before realizing that this is utterly insane. He doesn't want Dean to hate him. In fact, the opposite. He wants his forgiveness, he wants the fondness between them to exist like it once did, like it was starting to again. Castiel notes a feeling of longing, but for what?

The air hangs thick between them and Castiel looks at the ground eventually. He is aware of Dean's gaze, appraising him. Looking at every inch, and judging him.

"Do you want to die?" Dean finally says, with no hint of emotion. This is rare.

"Dean, I really don't know. Everything has changed so much. Heaven was once home, full of my brothers and sisters, whom I loved dearly. Now, I don't belong there. I'm not sure where I belong. I am angry, and confused, but there is wonder too. I don't know Dean, I am more upset about the idea of what I may have done to harm you, than about falling and becoming...human."

Castiel struggles to finish his sentence. He reverts back to his method of breathing in, and than out, slowly. He stares, unblinking at Dean, who looks glassy-eyed.

"Well Cas, you aren't going anywhere, not on my watch." he finally says with a firm tone, "and you do have somewhere you belong. You belong here, with us...you're family. You always have been."

The weight of the those words seems to shake Dean. He has said it before, and he has always meant it. Castiel knows that much. Dean rarely says what he doesn't mean. Castiel remembers back to when he devoured the souls of purgatory, of the harm he had done, and that through it all...he was still Dean's family.

Castiel feels so comforted by this thought, and he can feel his eyes misting over slightly. This was new! He knew what it was, and he welcomed it. The physical manifestation of all his agonies, his pain, his ineptitude, and the feeling of being forgiven and wanted despite all of it.

Castiel looks at Dean, tilting his head slightly to the side with a small smile on his lips. "Thank you."

How Sam would have laughed, or maybe he would join in too, if he had walked in on these two men. These two incredibly broken men, who had been so past the point of repair, who had been to hell, heaven, purgatory, and back. Men who should be so hardened and cold, but here they are, tears in their eyes as they have the reunion that they have both been waiting for since leaving purgatory.

Dean pulls Castiel forward in a hard embrace, almost too tight. Castiel reciprocates and finds himself holding onto Dean, his fingers clutching at the soft fabric of Dean's shirt. He feels tears running down his cheeks soaking through the collar of Dean's checkered over-shirt. He doesn't care. Dean's own tears are wetting the shirt Castiel is wearing, and Castiel can hear him sniffling.

They embrace for a long time, neither one wanting to be the first to pull apart. Dean laughs, his arms still clutching tightly around Castiel's (more gaunt than before) torso. "This is about the time when Sam walks in", Dean says, but Castiel can only nod and quietly sniffle, tears still falling. This was his home.


	3. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**: Constant Knot

It has been two weeks since Castiel awoke at the Winchester's new home, wingless and all. Castiel looks at the walls surrounding him, the same feeling of trapped enclosure that he has become accustomed to. Castiel sits up a little more in his bed, pulling his knees up tight underneath his chin. Almost every night was like this. Castiel drops his head onto his knees, feeling the small emptiness in his heart again.

Walls closing around him, bare and empty. He looks around, raising his head from his knees, and he feels dizzy again. Who knew that being human was to feel so trapped? Castiel reaches around himself, right arm over his left shoulder, and rubs the reminiscent area where he once had wings. His left hand clutches at the sheets, pulling them tight.

Trying not to let his eyes fill with water, he blinks and goes back to his well rehearsed calming technique. Breathing in and out slowly, Castiel can feel the room begin to settle again. He knows that sleep is vital, but each night he wanders between the nightmares in his head to the nightmare of his waking life. Never sleeping more than several hours at a time, he wakes with a start. How unguarded and unsafe, this necessary evil of sleep.

Castiel can't help but hate this room. This empty room that makes him feel even more empty as a human. He has his own room, and Dean had been pretty ecstatic over this idea. Castiel just couldn't understand it. He didn't even feel _safe._ He felt alone. It didn't help that his room was the furthest from the others, down a dark and narrow hallway. Castiel hated the darkness too.

Who knew. He had been the purest light before, and now he was human. And the darkness was encroaching. Castiel hates these moments. When he is drifting between dreams, when he awakens and has only himself to comfort himself. When his metaphysical questions seem to drown out all other thoughts.

"I need to take a walk" Castiel says, prepping himself a little. Really, the dark hallway outside this room was more of a foe than he would normally like to admit. He plants both feet firmly on the cold, hard, wooden floor. It just takes one step, one more reminder of his own physical being, and Castiel feels calmer. Gaining control of body and limb was satisfying. If only the mind's rampant thoughts were so easy to control.

Castiel opens the door to his room, peering into the dark hallway. A small sliver of light shines from beneath a door, a small light to guide by. Castiel smiles inwardly, thankful for the light that pushed the dark away just the tiniest amount. He walks forward, slowly. He found himself roaming the hallway and main room of the bunker almost every night. It was the only way he could keep himself from losing himself in his mind.

Tonight though, another light was on. Someone was awake! As Castiel turned the corner, he saw the light was coming from beneath the door to Dean's room. Castiel looked at the watch on his wrist, a gift from Sam that he was extremely thankful for. It was nearly 3am, and Castiel was a bit surprised that Dean was still awake. Sometimes he missed being able to hear Dean's prayers, and even occasionally, Sam's. He wondered who they prayed to now?

Castiel listened for a moment outside the door, before knocking softly.

"Uh, come in?" Dean's voice says hesitantly.

Castiel opens the door slowly, hoping he isn't intruding. Dean is sitting on the edge of his bed, one hand holding what looks like a photograph, which he puts down on his nightstand as soon as their eyes meet.

"I'm sorry Dean, I just...could not sleep. I saw your light was on." Castiel says, apologetically. He feels as if he has walked in on a private moment. He wishes, not for the last time, that he was still able to hear Dean's prayers.

"That's fine Cas, not a big deal," Dean says, "how have you been sleeping anyway?"

Castiel still hasn't quite grasped the finer nuances with lying, and he hates lying anyway, especially to Dean. So he goes for the truth instead.

"Actually, I find it very difficult to do."

Dean smiles kindly and motions for Castiel to sit down in one of the chairs positioned close to the bed. Castiel obliges, closing the door behind him. Dean's room was full of things, which surprised Castiel sometimes. Dean wasn't really one for material possessions, but he had poured his whole life into his room. Castiel enjoyed this room. It was a stark contrast to his own. This one had someone in it who was _real_. Castiel supposed what he liked most was that this was so full of soul. The broken pieces of Dean; the weapons that he had used to cut down so many, but also the sides of humanity that were so heartbreakingly beautiful. Castiel sometimes heard Dean playing a record and singing along to it, unaware that anyone could hear. That was something Castiel loved about humanity, and part of why he had been adamant to save them.

"I have trouble sleeping too Cas. You know, after what we've seen, I think that's normal. It would be weird to be able to sleep like a baby!" Dean says with a small laugh, and a hand gesturing towards Sam's room.

Castiel can feel himself relaxing. Maybe most humans went through the same terrifying moments in the dark, wondering the meaning of everything. He looks at Dean, who has swung his legs around to the other side of the bed now to face Castiel. Dean's eyes look tired, and slightly red around the corners. He looks more pale, most likely due to him hiding out indoors and caring for this fallen angel. His freckles on his nose stand out more now, which Castiel has never noticed before. For some reason, this makes Dean look so much younger.

"What do you think of the darkness Dean?" Castiel asks, the words bubbling out of his mouth before he has a chance to restrain them. He squints his eyes at Dean, hoping that this question wasn't too strange.

"I don't think I know what you mean. Like, the physical darkness when there's no light? Or do you mean, just you know...bad stuff in the world?" Dean says, pursing his lips a little bit and looking to the side a bit. Castiel loved this so much about Dean. He could literally see the cogs of his mind working, following down the millions of pathways of responses. Again, this was what Castiel had fallen for initially. These moments in human existence that were so precious.

Castiel takes a deep breath, preparing to explain himself.

"As you know, angels exist in celestial wavelengths of light, a light so brilliant and strong that human eyes can not behold..." Castiel begins, eying Dean's expressions as he continues. "When I woke up as a human, it was like being bathed in darkness."

A moment passes between them, Dean listening intently. He motions with his hands for Cas to continue.

"See, I was used to being the brightest thing in the room. You couldn't see it; human eyes couldn't perceive. I had never been immersed in darkness, because I was the light."

Dean nods a little bit, slowly, and understanding. "Cas, we all knew that you were an immeasurable ball of light, larger than us all. You know, you still shine though."

Castiel reels back a little bit. He was always caught off-guard with these new moments passing between them. He'd noticed Dean had been letting down all defenses, but he it still shocked him when Dean said words that were so kind. Poetic! Although, he knew all along that was Dean's core; he'd seen and felt Dean's soul. Dean was indeed the righteous man, but he was also so much more.

Castiel laughs nervously, not sure where to look. Now he had made it awkward. "Dammit" he thinks, cursing himself for his lack of communication skills. He spent too much time thinking and analyzing. His raises his eyes slowly from the ground and meets Dean's open expression. Castiel figured that he could just look at Dean, the way he used to. When he was an angel, it was much easier to read Dean. Although, it had been getting easier lately as well.

Dean breaks the silence, with another small laugh as he swings his legs onto the bed and leans his head back on his pillow, his arms behind his head.

"I didn't mean to sound so serious Cas, but you know what I am saying right?"

Castiel nods and grins as well, a small idea in his mind. "Dean, would you mind if I asked you a favor?"

"Sure thing"

"Do you think I would be able to watch over you as you sleep? I know you kind of hate-"

"That's fine, Cas", Dean interrupts.

Castiel looks at Dean shocked. His eyes go wide, while he watches Dean crawl underneath the white linen on the bed and pull his head down onto his pillow.

"Just don't make any noise, or I'll kill you. I need at least four hours tonight and it is 4am" Dean says, his voice muffled slightly by his pillow.

Castiel smiles happily and shakes his head a little bit, closing his hands together in his lap. He had watched Dean sleep many more times than Dean knew. This was familiar and comforting. Castiel could feel his chest swelling with pride a little bit. The many times he had protected Dean, while Dean fought his own demons in his mind. Castiel understood this a lot more now, and was glad to have spent so much of his own time, defending a helpless and slumbering human.

Castiel leans back in his chair slightly, and puts his feet up on the edge of Dean's bed. His eyes feel heavy, and his ears drink in sound of the slow rhythmic breathing coming from the man under the covers. Castiel can feel his head drooping as the constant knot in his gut continues to unwind itself, just a bit more each day.


	4. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**: My Favorite Book

For the next few weeks, it became their tradition. Cas would come quietly into Dean's room and settle himself into his familiar chair. He'd "watch" over Dean, until Dean was snoring softly. In those silent moments, Castiel felt at home enough to let himself drift off as well.

It wasn't the most comfortable arrangement really, but it was the only way Castiel was able to sleep for more than two hours at a time. In fact, he found that he typically slept the entire night without being disturbed. Dean didn't seem to mind, and secretly, Castiel thought he also welcomed the company.

* * *

Castiel woke with a start, one of his feet having slipped off the corner of Dean's bed and slammed into the ground. Castiel rubs his eyes gently, before looking up to look at Dean, who is apparently already awake and reading a book. Dean issmiling slightly, watching Castiel. Cas takes a quick glance at his watch.

"It's 10am?!" he exclaims, looking at Dean.

"I think that's the longest you've slept since coming here. I think it's like nine hours or something, you've been out."

Castiel rubs the back of his neck, feeling a bit sore. Standing, he stretches his arms above his head and yawns. His pajama bottoms hang low on his hips, and Castiel is aware of Dean's gaze moving up his body before looking away nervously.

"So now that we have you sleeping on a weird, but kinda normal schedule, we have to work on your eating habits" Dean says knowingly.

Castiel feels a rush of blood fill his cheeks, something that was beginning to happen very often. It was always Dean who made him feel slightly self conscious. He had never given any thought to appearances before. He had always admired beauty of course, and knew enough about humans to know that Dean fell somewhere closer to "exceptional" in the physical department. However, Castiel had no idea that he could feel so shy about his own body. The body that was Jimmy's, which was now his to care for.

"I know Dean, but it is hard to remember to eat at certain times, and it can be boring to eat alone."

Dean laughs and closes his book. He stands up and walks closer to Castiel. He lets out an exasperated sigh, but his eyes tell Castiel that he is joking as he says "See Cas, THIS is why we can't leave you here while we go on a hunt. I'll come home and you'll be dead from starvation."

Castiel laughs, mostly because this is very true. He has no idea how to cook, and he is still wearing almost all of Dean's clothing. It is his comfort blanket, he understands that much. The clothing smells like detergent and Dean's deodorant. It is all worn in, old, but comfortable and soft. Castiel slightly hops that Dean and Sam will continue to forget to go out and buy him new clothes.

Dean motions for Cas to follow him downstairs, presumably to eat. Castiel follows, tightening the drawstring on his pants. He hadn't realized that he was so thin, and he made a mental note to take better care of his vessel. His body. It was hard to remember that sometimes, that it was something fluid and changing, that needed to be cared for.

"First Cas, we're gonna get some food in you. Then, we have a busy day ahead of us." Dean says gruffly, all business.

Castiel smiles, it was hard not to. If there had to be one human who always bossed him around, it was going to be Dean, and surprisingly it took a lot for Cas to get annoyed with this. As he follows Dean, he notices that everything in the living area had been cleared out. Clearly, someone had been busy. Sam is gone, most likely hunting with Garth. They said they would take turns, but Dean hasn't yet left for a single hunt. Castiel is secretly very glad about this, since he wasn't sure he could sleep on his own.

Dean motions again for Castiel to follow him.

"Today, you are gonna learn how to cook something for yourself!" Dean says proudly. He clearly thought that he was just the man to teach Cas.

"I wasn't aware that you were such a great chef, Dean" Castiel says, smirking a little and tilting his head to the side. He wasn't very good at joking around, but he had been trying to get better at it. He was sure he was still awkward and stilted, but Dean never made him feel bad about it.

Dean pushes on Castiel's arm a little, "haha Cas, you are funny. Now get your not-so-angel ass over here and learn a little somethin' about cooking".

Castiel couldn't understand what pleasure one could derive from cooking. He preferred to watch as Dean did it instead, but partook when he was asked. They were making omelets, and Cas tried his best to imitate exactly what Dean was was doing. He cracked his first egg into the skillet and accidentally dropped most of the shell in. Dean expertly dug out the shell bits, and let Cas try it again with a second egg.

It took twice as long to cook with Castiel. He wasn't particularly interested in doing it himself. He knew he was just playing along to humor Dean. "Does it always take this long to cook? No wonder you and Sam are often eating out at diners."

Dean laughs, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "Cas, YOU are the reason its taking so long! Here, help me chop up an onion."

Castiel obliges, and grabs the onion from Dean's hand. Their hands touch and Castiel can feel his face beginning to flush again, so he hurries to turn his head and immerse himself in the act of finding a knife in the drawer.

He starts to chop the onion slowly, and expertly. He was a bit of a perfectionist. Each slice was cut to exactly the same size as the previous one. Castiel looks up and Dean, who is watching him with amusement.

"Is there something funny here?" Castiel asks, confused.

"Oh no, just you know, you are chopping onions. It's fun to chop onions." he says, while pouring two glasses of orange juice.

Castiel nods and continues his work. He rubs his eyes a little, aware of a small stinging sensation. His eyes were wet! Castiel gasps in shock and rubs at his eyes more, trying to stop them from filling with more tears.

Dean is laughing, in fact, he is repeatedly throwing his head backwards in laughter and then leaning forward again.

"Stop, stop Cas. Don't rub your eyes, you'll make them red!" Dean says, between fits of laughter.

"I don't understand. Why am I crying?" Castiel asks, trying not to rub his eyes, but feeling slightly hurt at this bodily betrayal.

"Here, come wash your hands. Don't touch your eyes anymore. They are already really red. Its from the onions, they make your eyes water" Dean says, slightly apologetic, but apparently it was still worth it.

Castiel doesn't mind, he loves these rare moments when Dean laughs, and laughs really hard. But damn, his eyes really did sting. He sticks his head inside the bathroom adjacent to the kitchen and looks at his reflection for a moment. His eyes are lined with red and slightly puffy. His dark blue eyes stare back at him, and he narrows his eyes at himself. Cas hates the mirror.

He walks back into the kitchen and starts washing his hands. Dean has finished chopping the onions, and Cas is happy to note that his green eyes appear watery now as well. Dean feels a little bit bad, so he offers to finish cooking breakfast as long as Cas pays attention. Cas isn't really sure what he likes to eat, so Dean lets him try a little bit of everything before putting it in his omelet.

"Eggs are great Dean, but I don't know about mushrooms." Cas says, watching Dean pour a ton into his omelet.

"Here try one first" Dean says, holding out a fork with a mushroom on it.

Castiel is surprised to find that he loves mushrooms. He tries onions next, and can't stand them. He crinkles his nose and pulls back from his fork, visibly disgusted.

"I don't think I like anything about onions" he says, very matter-of-fact.

Dean laughs and shrugs, "more for me then".

By the time they are done, breakfast has taken them over an hour and it is probably closer to lunchtime. Cas's omelet is rather basic, other than the mushrooms, which he took copious amounts of. Dean's omelet is filled with mushrooms, onions, peppers, and ham.

"This is really good Dean, thank you for showing me how to make these" Castiel says, fairly certain that he could duplicate this process. Dean nods, his mouth full. Castiel grins, making sure to keep his mouth closed since it is also full of food. He wonders again, for about the millionth time, how it was that only Dean was able to make him feel alive. He supposed that Dean was his best friend, and the best friend that anyone could have. Castiel can feel his face getting hot again, so he quickly shoves the remainder of his omelet into his mouth and begins to clean up.


	5. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**: Until We Bleed

Castiel is standing awkwardly in front of Dean. They are dressed in similar clothing, Castiel's clothing being Dean's of course. Dean is wearing a black undershirt, with jeans. Castiel is wearing jeans as well, that hang a little low as usual, but he has borrowed a belt from Sam's room. His shirt is a plain white undershirt that seems to fit better than most of Dean's other shirts. Castiel rubs his hands through his hair, noticing that it seems a bit longer than normal. He was thankful that the Winchesters didn't really mind what he looked like. He is sure he has adopted the look of someone who could be found on the streets. He keeps forgetting to shave until Dean makes some small comment about it, in which case, Castiel feels self conscious and attempts to shave without cutting his face up terribly. He was unsuccessful 90% of the time.

Castiel wasn't sure what Dean had planned for them today, but he was sure that he probably wouldn't enjoy it. Dean had actually gotten dressed, which wouldn't have surprised Castiel a year ago, but that was the case lately. If Dean didn't have somewhere to be, he was content to lounge in his pajamas and robe. This was advantageous for Castiel since it meant he always he lots of clothing to borrow from Dean.

Dean tilts his head to the right, then to the left. This is apparently his way of stretching. He looks at Castiel and grins a little. He still hasn't told Castiel what they are going to be doing. Castiel groans a little bit, hoping that Dean hears it. Dean either doesn't hear, or chooses to ignore it.

"So, uh, I've been thinking," Dean looks expectantly at Castiel half expecting to be taunted. "You are a great fighter Cas, you can and _have _beat the shit out of me".

Castiel frowns at this, not wanting to remember. He glares a little bit at Dean for bringing it up, but Dean has already turned his back to Cas and is rummaging through a box on the floor by their feet.

"The thing is though, you aren't an angel now. You don't have the same magical strength and stuff. So I was thinking that I should start to help train you and whatever," Dean says as he turns back to Castiel.

Castiel narrows his eyes as he sees a knife in each of Dean's hands. He hadn't made up his mind about _what_ he wants to do with himself now. He wasn't ever cut out to be a soldier or a fighter, that much he knows. Every time he was one, he managed to make everything worse. Castiel struggles to find the right words to say, knowing that it was not always best to be extremely blunt.

"I don't think I want to hunt, or that I even can hunt" he says, hoping that the last part will soften the blow.

Dean's face falls, and his mouth tightens into a straight line. Every inch of his body seems to tense up and his breathing becomes more ragged. Castiel breathes in, and breathes out. He knew the warning signs, of when Dean was going to shut him out. Dean could be cold, and unwavering. They'd been avoiding this topic for a while, but it was like a ticking time-bomb. The topic was under each layer of conversation, neither one wanting to lift the blanket. Castiel had stopped asking Dean and Sam to tell him what he had done while he was under Naomi's control. This was something that both brothers were obviously in total agreement about: they were not going to tell Cas, not yet anyway. If now was when they were going to have this conversation, then why not. Dean was already pissed, as far as Cas could tell.

"What do you mean, you don't _want_ to hunt? What do you _want_ to do? Go live some apple-pie life; find yourself a wife and become a salesman?!" Dean says, always knowing how to cut where it hurt. Castiel might be human now, but he wasn't stupid. He knew exactly to what Dean was referring, and he wasn't fighting fair.

Castiel sighs loudly and steps toward Dean, hoping that he is still able to be slightly intimidating, as he once was as an angel. "Dammit Dean, that is not what I meant and you know it," Castiel says, his voice lowering into an almost inaudible hiss. "You won't even tell me _how_ I become human...then I'm to follow you on blind trust into everything, and then you expect me to kill?!"

Castiel can feel his own anger simmering beneath the surface. He rarely lost control, but this was starting to feel like one of those moments. It was unfair, and what right did Dean have to assume that Castiel would _want_ to fall into a life of killing and saving people, who would die someday anyway. In the back of his mind, Castiel regrets thinking that, but he is too angry to care right now. He was treated as a child too often, and Castiel had a little too much pride to take it for much longer.

Dean's eyes glaze over, his own rage burning inside. His jaw is repetitively clenching and un-clenching, and his hands have balled into fists over the handles of the swords in his hands.

"Screw you, Cas", Dean says, stepping close to Castiel. Castiel wishes for a moment that Dean would just hit him. It might make them both feel better. Dean is standing so close, their noses are nearly touching. For a second, Castiel again notices the small freckles on Dean's nose. He hates himself for this. Dean's lips are snarled into a menacing shape, and his eyes are dead. If Castiel didn't know Dean so well, he would probably be running right now. In fact, now that he'd thought of it, running seemed like a good idea.

"Fine. I will go." Castiel says, his own lips formed into a hard line, eyes narrowed. He notices briefly that his hands are also clenched and his palms are wet. He has to get out of here, he has to think, and he can't look at Dean anymore. Not like this.

"Door is right there." Dean says, motioning to the front door as he throws his knives onto the floor beside Castiel. Dean starts to stride back towards his bedroom, his shoulder knocking into Castiel's, a bit too hard to be accidental. Castiel can feel his heart pounding and his head is pulsating with each beat. He doesn't want to be left standing here, so he walks as quickly as he can without running and opens the front door. He briefly considers looking behind him, before deciding that Dean could also go "screw himself", and Castiel slams the door as he steps outside.

It is dark outside, and Castiel lingers for a moment before ascending the stairs that led to a black and empty street.


	6. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**: You are the Moon

Castiel hates the silence sometimes. There was no more "angel-radio" as Dean liked to call it. Most of all though, he missed being able to hear Dean's prayers. The moments that cut him to his core. Even when he couldn't answer, there was a safety in hearing them.

Sometimes it meant that Dean was ok. That was enough for Cas. He knew better than to worry that some simple hunt, like laying a ghost to rest, would claim Dean's life. He worried anyway. Dean's prayers were like mini-updates. Sometimes Dean would just talk, he might make some jokes, and sometimes he'd just say "Cas" over and over again.

Castiel liked hearing his name. He preferred Cas to Castiel anyway. Sometimes, Dean would pour out his soul in his prayers, usually when he thought Castiel wasn't listening. These were Castiel's favorite prayers. He knew they were bait, Dean was dangling his soul in front of Castiel, hoping to get a response. It almost always worked, and Castiel would abandon whatever he was doing to answer Dean.

Purgatory had been the worst. Dean prayed every night, with such urgency. It killed Cas to stay away. It nearly broke him.

Now the night was silent. There would be no silent plead from Dean, begging Castiel to come home. Castiel feels the sudden uncertainty bearing down on himself. He has no idea what Dean is doing right now. Castiel can't help but feel a twinge of guilt, realizing this is how Dean felt usually. In fact, Castiel has made Dean feel this fairly often before.

Castiel tries to imagine what Dean is doing. Dean might be in his room, pacing. Probably doing more than pacing, he probably has punched a door or two at some point. Castiel entertains the idea for a moment that Dean might be looking for him. No, he definitely wouldn't. Castiel contemplates returning, and steals a glance at his watch. It is 7:23, and the poorly lit street didn't leave much to be desired. Castiel's legs are tired, and his eyes sting. He had tried running for a while, because he needed to be actively doing something to escape. He wishes for the millionth time that he still had his angel powers.

Instead, he was stuck here. He has no idea how to drive a car, and so he can only run. His breathing has slowed, and his bare feet are sore. The pain had been a welcome distraction, as he pushes himself to a near breaking point. Bitterly, Castiel looks down at his hands and shakes his head.

"The body fits the mind" he says out loud, wanting to hear something more than the silence. It was dark, and Castiel's fears had begun to seep into his mind. He had left his anger somewhere on the road behind him, and now he just felt empty.

Castiel stops running, and drops to his knees on the pavement. Breathing in and out slowly, he tries to refrain from praying. It is the last thing he wants to succumb to. He stands slowly, running his hands through his hair and sighing. Along with the fear of the impending darkness, the guilt was beginning to build to immeasurable heights. Cas knows he can be stubborn and difficult, and that Dean is the same way. They seemed to constantly collide like charged particles that couldn't stay away from each other. Cas feels a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He hopes Dean can see it that way and forgive him.

* * *

Castiel steps into the Winchester lair and is surprised to see that most of the lights are still on. Everything is just how it was when he had left, several hours earlier. It had taken a while to walk back, now that he was too tired to run. It seemed that human bodies could do a lot when they were charged with emotions, but now he almost felt too drained to do more than walk slowly. He had noticed his feet were throbbing as well, and slightly cut up. It was more of an annoyance than anything else, but it hadn't helped him get home any faster once he had decided to come back.

Castiel takes a deep breath and ascends the stairs, hoping to make enough noise to not startle Dean. He notices the light is still on in Dean's room, so he figures now is better than later. He knocks quietly, his knuckle rapping lightly twice on the wooden door. There is no answer.

Dean must be really mad, he figures. He purses his lips a little bit, wondering if he should just walk in anyway. It would be rude, but he hates to leave words unsaid. And right now, he was feeling so low that it probably wouldn't change anything to have Dean yell at him; at least he would be feeling something. Uncertainty was something he hated, especially now when everything else in his life has been flipped upside down.

His hands grip the doornob, and turn it slowly. Still no word from Dean. Cas takes this as a good sign (hopefully), so he walks in hesitantly.

Dean has his back turned, and is folding a pile of clothing that is dumped out on the bed. He doesn't turn to look at Castiel, but he gruffly says, "If you come in, I swear to god, I will punch you in the face. I mean it Cas".

Castiel flinches slightly, but doesn't stop. He closes the door behind him and steps closer to Dean, who is folding a shirt. Castiel's eyes flick towards the bandage on Dean's knuckles, and he can feel his heart sink. His eyes scan over Dean's body, which is held rigid and stiff. His hair is wet and sticking out in all directions. Cas notes that Dean also has let his hair grow out a little more. His anger towards Dean has all evaporated, replaced entirely by guilt and remorse. Watching Dean fold clothes quietly into two piles, Cas longs to reach out, to help.

"You can punch me if you would like," Cas says, hoping that Dean doesn't really take him up on it, but also accepting that this would be a satisfactory way to set things right.

Dean turns quickly, his eyes sparking with fire for a moment before becoming saddened and soft. His hands tighten around the shirt he is holding.

"I don't _want_ to punch you Cas" he says, clearly. His voice is unwavering and honest. Castiel almost believes him, but there is still a fire simmering beneath the sadness, and he is waiting for the words to come out. Cas frowns at Dean and turns his head a little to the side, trying to understand what it is that Dean wants him to do.

"I can leave you alone right now" Cas says, deciding that maybe it would just be best to leave this for the morning.

Dean throws down the shirt in his hands and looks at Castiel. The anger has resurfaced, and his mouth is in a hard line, the one he gets when he is so serious, that it is almost hard to imagine that this mouth had ever known how to smile. Castiel hates this look, the one that reminds him of how broken Dean has been, and how broken he still is. Dean's eyes lock with Castiel's, and Dean narrows his eyes.

"Dammit Cas, that is the problem." He takes Castiel by surprise, putting one hand on Castiel's shoulder and pushing him backwards into the wall. Castiel notes that the door beside him has several new dents in it, dents the size of Dean's first. Castiel recoils into the wall, squinting his eyes and hoping that Dean doesn't hit him too hard. Healing as a human was an annoyance.

Dean holds him there and his eyes travel up Castiel's body, meeting at the eyes.

"I'm not going to hit you Cas" he says sadly, "I'm not like that". Dean's eyes cloud over, a dark memory, before returning to their passionate anger. Castiel's mind races, trying to focus on the present. He's seen Dean's past, he knows that Dean won't hurt him. He knows why the thought hurts Dean, but he can barely focus on anything besides the touch of Dean's firm hand on his shoulder. Their proximity is close, and Castiel can smell Dean's familiar body wash and deodorant. He mentally kicks himself for letting his mind wander to such superfluous thoughts. He brings his eyes to meet Dean's again.

Dean's face hardens again, his hands digging into Castiel's shoulder, pushing him harder against the bedroom wall. Castiel braces himself, the cutting words that would come next, because he knew this expression. The tight mouth, clenches jaw, and unforgiving eyes.

"I will tell you this Cas, the next time you walk out, that better be the last time I see your face" he finally says, grimly.

"I've done more for you than anyone besides Sammy, and you don't even know the half of it. So I do mean it when I say, if you turn your back on me again, then we are done. I'm done with people walking out on me; I don't need it." Dean's lips quiver slightly, showing only the smallest weakness in his snarl.

Castiel's eyes start to mist, and here they are again, the great expanse between them. Castiel has broken Dean's trust over and over, and they can't manage to keep things mended. Castiel wonders briefly why he keeps returning like a moth to a flame. Why the man who is his light, is also the one who makes him feel the darkness, and why he does the same thing in return. Everything he had done in the past was for Dean, everything.

Castiel looks at Dean, the bandaged knuckles on his right hand, and the way Dean's shirt clings to his body snugly ; lifting on one side to expose Dean's hip bone. Dean's arm outstretched, still pinning Castiel against the wall. Castiel takes a deep breath, and places one hand softly on the small patch of exposed skin.

Dean flinches slightly, but doesn't pull back. They look at each other, imploring.

Castiel says softly, "I've done much for you too Dean, please understand that. I won't walk out on you, I promise, I won't". His voice shakes a little bit at the end, but he is sincere. Dean's fingers clutch more tightly on Castiel's shoulder, pulling at the fabric as he steps closer. Castiel can almost see his reflection in Dean's eyes, which are wide and noticeably focused on Castiel's lips. Castiel's heart is beating furiously in his chest and he hopes that Dean can't hear it. They are so close again, and all anger has gone from Dean's eyes. They were pushing and pulling at each other, the perpetual motion that they always found themselves in. Dean's outstretched arm is pushing Castiel against the wall, and Castiel's hand is pulling Dean closer.

Castiel lets his fingers close around Dean's hip more tightly, and he swallows the longing in his mind. Dean's skin is soft, cold, but so much softer than Castiel would have imagined. Dean's beauty is so calm and clear, a light in the storm, and Castiel starts to only slightly understand the feelings that he has been so confused about. His eyes travel from Dean's hips, to his eyes, and back down towards the lips that were so perfectly contoured. A moment passes between them, the electrical current that was always there, and Castiel can feel gravity's pull.

A door slams, keys are heard being thrown against a table. Dean inhales sharply and pulls quickly away from Castiel. His eyes are now on the ground as he refuses to look at Castiel.

"Sam's home" Dean says quietly, opening the door to his room. He leaves Castiel standing in a pit of confusion. He looks at his hands which are shaking slightly, and then at his feet which are still cut up and dirty. He presses his hands together, and inhales, then exhales. He doesn't really feel like talking to Sam at the moment, so he figures he should try to jump into the shower before he gets pulled into a conversation.

Looking around at Dean's room again, he notices that Dean has washed most of the dirty clothing from Castiel's room. He smiles a little bit before walking out as quietly as he can towards the bathroom.

When Castiel goes to open the door, it is locked and he notices the light on beneath the door. He sighs and pouts slightly. Dean had apparently had the same idea to avoid Sam.


	7. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:** First Day of My Life

Castiel sighs and slumps over more in his chair. He hadn't been able to sneak into the bathroom, to hide from Sam. So he had stood red-faced in the hallway awkwardly, before deciding he should just go into the living area anyway.

Sam is eating a sandwich and telling Castiel about the hunt he had been on. Cas can barely focus, his mind still reeling from the moment he had just had with Dean. Sam stands up and puts on some music. He had purchased a small radio-like object that played music from his phone. Castiel hadn't ever really enjoyed music before, but he had started to enjoy it more recently. Sam and Dean had vastly different tastes in music, but right now Castiel felt grateful for the soothing music Sam was playing.

"Are you listening, Cas?" Sam said, interrupting Castiel's reverie.

Cas blinks several times and gives Sam an apologetic smile. "Sorry Sam, I'm listening, keep going".

Sam laughs and looks at Castiel, trying to read him. Sometimes Castiel was unnerved by how perceptive Sam could be. The Winchester's were both so adept at reading people, and Castiel was an open book. He didn't mind it so much with Dean, usually, but his relationship with Sam was oftentimes strained, so it was uncomfortable.

Castiel smiles at Sam again, "Really, I'm here".

Sam grins and shakes his head. "You had a fight with Dean, right?"

Castiel's eyes widen and he slinks down further in his chair. "Why would you think that?" he asks, attempting to sound innocent. His palms begin to sweat and he rubs them absently on the arms of his chair, trying to control his body temperature.

"Look, you guys were bound to get into it sometime. I mean, you've both been holed up here for weeks. I know how difficult Dean can be" Sam says, smiling apologetically and running his hands through his hair.

Castiel is amused for a moment, realizing that Sam's hair has reached shoulder-length proportions. This was too uncomfortable, talking about Dean with Sam. It felt like a small betrayal, but then again, Dean _could _be difficult. No one knew this better than Sam.

"You're right" Castiel says with a sigh

Sam leans back in his chair, watching as Castiel rubs his hands back and forth along the arms of his chair. "So?" he says finally, obviously hoping that Cas would elaborate. Castiel grimaces as he tries to squirm further into his chair, his cheeks turning slightly red. At the mention of Dean, his mind had drifted immediately back to the moment in Dean's bedroom. The feeling of Dean's skin against his palm, and the way his heart had felt like it was going to explode. If Sam could read his mind, Castiel was sure that he'd die from embarrassment.

"So...we had an argument, but it is fine now" Castiel says, turning to look anywhere but at Sam. Sam who was looking at him so strangely, so inquisitively.

"You're weird, Cas" Sam says, laughing and shaking his head while he finishes his sandwich.

"Hey, Sammy, welcome home" Dean's voice says, echoing as he saunters over. Castiel looks at Dean from the corner of his eye, and sits up slightly in his chair. Cas wonders for a moment why Dean's hair is soaking wet again, since he had showered earlier too. He hopes that he is showering the adequate amount for humans, and he can feel his body temperature start to rise again.

Dean walks around Cas, his hand resting on Castiel's shoulder and squeezing it for a moment. Castiel is aware that his face is starting to flush red again. He tries to look anywhere but at Dean, so he focuses on his hands which are now in his lap. Dean pulls out the chair next to Castiel and sits down, grinning.

"Hey Dean. You look...happy" Sam says, slightly confused. "Were you watching porn or something?"

At this, Castiel can barely hold back a choking noise in his throat. His mind had already wandered back to previously, coupled with the new information that Dean had been in the shower again. He stands up abruptly, his wooden chair scraping loudly against the marble floor. He coughs a little to clear his throat, trying not to look at Dean or Sam.

"Water" he says, pointing to the kitchen, walking, almost running into the kitchen. He doesn't turn around to see their faces, he just hopes he can make it to the kitchen without alarming them even further. He is sweating, his face is red, and he can't help him mind from wandering to strange thoughts about Dean.

One of the pleasant experiences of becoming human, was learning what his body was telling him. It had been there before, the longing, but Castiel had no reference to go off. Dean was always special, and Castiel had known that for years. This was new though, the insatiable desire to touch to Dean. The way every hair on his arms stood up when Dean touched him. The electrical pulses between them, and Castiel couldn't really ignore it now. Not when they'd been so close, and Dean hadn't pulled away, not until Sam walked in.

Castiel leans against the wall, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. This has been the most confusing part about falling. He and Dean are finally on even ground, and what does that mean?

Without warning, Castiel feels a hand on his hips, pulling him away from the wall. His eyes fling open, blue meeting green. Dean smiles slightly. For just a moment he looks open and inviting, sure of himself. Just a moment, before his lazy grin leaves his face and he pulls back from Castiel. He laughs nervously and pats Cas on the shoulder.

"Just uh, checking to make sure you were OK" Dean says, stuttering his way through his words. His eyes sliding towards the door, cautiously. Castiel's heart is pounding and he is so confused. Why! He shakes his head, feeling slightly betrayed. It was always one step forward, two steps backwards. His eyes narrow at Dean, and for the first time, Cas can find a word to describe his feelings.

Dean is in pajama bottoms again, and a waffle shirt that cling tightly to his body. Castiel appreciates the human form; the beautiful way Dean's hair is darker when wet, spiked and sticking out in all directions. His freckles that are barely noticeable, and the slight stubble the seems to grow overnight, no matter how often Dean shaves. Castiel loves the scars on Dean's body, the eyes that are full of every emotion, and lips that are perfectly shaped. Lips manufactured to love and to hate, to heal and to harm. The man who pushes and pulls him in every direction. The one that he would follow to the end of the world, no matter what. Cas didn't care, he would be happy as long as he had Dean. This was his best friend, the man who had saved him over and over, and whom he had saved as well. This was who he loved. The light that gave him life. This was love, and lust, and longing, but it was everything if not more than love itself.

The frustration of uncertainty gives way to understanding and pleasure. Castiel loves Dean. He wants to be close to Dean, to hold him and touch him, and to look into his eyes and not have to be confused anymore. Dean was his light, the one he went to in times of darkness, and he wants Dean to know. This man who is still so broken, and doesn't think he deserves to be loved. Castiel steps closer to Dean, still silent.

Dean licks his lips, and this almost undoes Castiel entirely. They are standing close, so close that Castiel can feel Dean's breathing. Castiel wraps his fingers through Dean's fingers, his soft hands running over rough skin. He smiles slightly when he notices that Dean's are also wet with sweat. They are standing close, chests touching. Dean's heart is beating quickly, and he is taking in small breaths.

Castiel tilts his head up slightly, and wraps one arm around Dean's neck. Dean follows suit, his hand moving slowly on Castiel's neck, intertwining in his hair. Their eyes meet, full of longing. Castiel feels almost light-headed, and is unsure how he is still standing. He thinks for a moment that his knees may give out. As if reading his mind, Dean lets go of Castiel's hand, and places his freed hand on Castiel's back, pulling him close and supporting his weight. Dean's other hand tugs at Castiel's hair, forcing Cas to pull his head up more. Their lips are so close, and Castiel watches as Dean's eyes close slowly.

The anticipation, the build-up, is so sweet and savory. He lets their lips stagnate in this near-touching state. He can feel a swelling his groin, his pants becoming tighter. Dean groans slightly before pulling Castiel closer to him, forcing their lips to meet.

Castiel closes his eyes, sinking into their embrace. Their lips tenderly graze each other, hesitant at first, before becoming more urgent. Dean is gentle and soft; slowly at first. He kisses the sides of Castiel's lips, gingerly. Castiel responds, mimicking and learning. Dean's fingers tug at Cas's hair, one arm still wrapped around Castiel's arched back.

They both groan loudly, pleasurably. Castiel has both hands on Dean's hips now, feeling soft skin and bone. His hands travel around to Dean's back, touching every inch that he has longed to touch. He fingers find their way underneath fabric, and continue to travel around Dean's body. Castiel has stopped thinking, calculating, and analyzing. This instant, he wants to freeze and keep forever.

Dean pulls back for a moment, laughing, as Castiel's hands find themselves on Dean's ribcage. Castiel opens his eyes, confused. Dean wrinkles his nose slightly, squirming underneath Castiel's touch.

"I'm ticklish there, Cas" he says, before bursting out laughing. Cas tilts his head to the side and makes a "so what" expression, that Dean understands instantly. Castiel isn't sure what being ticklish means, but it is apparently not a bad thing. He is happy that Dean is laughing too. Dean doesn't laugh enough.

Castiel pulls Dean to him again, and kisses him hard on the lips, forcing his tongue into Dean's mouth., savoring the taste of minty mouthwash. Dean lets out a moan, and Castiel can feel Dean's body weaken against him slightly. Castiel pulls back from Dean and smiles.

"I learned that from the pizza man".


	8. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**: Sleeping Sickness

Castiel wakes with a start, one hand reaching for the empty spot on the bed next to him. He inhales and sighs, closing his eyes momentarily. The room is empty, and it has been this way for almost a week. The room seems empty and barren without Dean in it. Castiel can feel the heavy void around him, and he closes his eyes again briefly before getting up.

He runs a hand through his hair, which has really begun to look more like Sam's. He rubs a hand absently across his chin, feeling the small prickling hairs. Without Dean around, Castiel has been relatively lazy where his appearance was concerned. He shrugs and figures he should at least shower though, before going to make some food for himself.

The bathroom is warm, and the mirror is still foggy. "Sam must have just showered" Castiel mumbles, becoming slightly accustomed to speaking out loud to himself. Sometimes it made himself feel better to hear the sound of something, anything. That was still a human trait he had trouble adjusting to, not being able to hear the many wavelengths of sound.

Castiel grabs a toothbrush, remembering with amusement the chastising he had received from Dean about using his specific toothbrush, and only his. Of course, this meant he had the pink one. He didn't mind, but Dean was amused by this. Castiel wipes at the mirror with his hand, and looks at himself for a moment and grimaces.

He really _did_ look terrible. There were dark circles underneath his eyes and his hair stuck out in all directions, hanging over the tops of his ears. His shadow of a beard made him appear more gaunt, a darkness covering his jawline. This was why he hated mirrors. He sneers at his own reflection before hurridly rinsing his toothbrush and hopping into the shower.

The water is warm and soothing. This was a human luxury that Castiel did not immediately despise. He found that he could let his mind wander more easily while showering. The blue tiles are calming, as steam fills the room. Even the overhead light becomes less piercing and loses the annoyingly yellow hue. Castiel sighs and tips his hair back into the water, pressing one arm against the shower wall.

This uncertainty was tearing at his mind, his heart. The image in the mirror was just another physical reminder of his torment. Castiel shakes his head, watching water droplets splatter across the shower door. His mind wanders back to _their_ kiss. The free smile on Dean's face, and the warm feeling that had spread like wildfire through his body. The reminder still brings a rush of blood to his cheeks, and a small sad smile. The moment had been so sweet, so perfect. Their night had been so tender, and Castiel had never felt so safe. He had wrapped his arms around Dean, and they just slept.

Castiel balls his hands into fists as tears spring to his eyes. "Why?" he whispers, his own small prayer. Dean had been cold the next morning, and extremely distant. He had been out of bed and dressed by the time Castiel awoke. A bag slung over his shoulder, and his eyes a foreign green. His face was immovable, impervious, and unforgiving. No hint of emotion what-so-ever.

"Hey man, uh, Garth needs help with a hunt and umm...I'm heading out" Dean said, unable to bring his eyes to meet Castiel's.

"Oh."

"Later."

"Wait, Dean, for how long?" Castiel asks, squinting his eyes as they adjust to the light.  
"No clue" he said with a shrug as he walked out the door.

Taking a deep breath, Castiel tries to remind himself to keep breathing and not get upset.

"Yeah right" he says again out loud, with a small laugh. His eyes are already filling with tears. He runs his hands through his hair, washing with the shampoo that reminded him so much of Dean. He hates that every moment of his life is intertwined with Dean. This invisible rope that has them tied together. The rope that was apparently long enough to let them keep running from each other.

The worst part had been the small note left on the dresser, in scribbled writing that Dean had hurriedly left behind for Cas.

"_Going on a hunt. Back whenever_"

Castiel hadn't found that until later, but it felt like a knife to his heart. If he hadn't woken to see Dean sneaking out the door, that would have been the only explanation. This is what lingered on his mind, day and night. When the darkness of the night was suffocating and the loneliness unbearable. That short scribbled note. Castiel had read it over and over, trying to figure out why it was so painful.

Now he knew why. It was the ease with which Dean had tossed him aside.

"Fuck", Castiel says as he absently drops the bar of soap onto his foot. The water is luke-warm by now and he is tired of thinking about Dean. He rolls his eyes as the top of his foot throbs in pain. Castiel really hates this part of being human.

* * *

Castiel finds Sam in the living area, typing away at his laptop as usual. Sam smiles lazily at Castiel before going back to his typing.

"What are you typing?" Castiel asks, partly out of curiosity and party from boredom. He was still on semi-lockdown (per Dean's orders), and the Winchester bat-cave would feel more like a prison if it wasn't for its extensive library.

Sam grins at Cas, "I'm doing my own journal of things, kind of a collection of our hunts and monsters, like my dad did but...online".

Castiel nods, smiling in return. "Sounds cool, let me know if I can help in any way".

"Sure thing, man" Sam says, his eyes glued to his computer screen again, fingers typing furiously.

Castiel reaches for the biology textbook he had been reading the night before. Biology, the study of life. No wonder he enjoys this book so much. He wasn't able to read as quickly as before, but he was still a fairly fast reader and his retention for information was still impeccable. He had found that the library here contained all sorts of books. It was a treasure-trove of data, a direct map about the human existence.

Science books are Castiel's favorite. The mostly irrefutable facts that humans had discovered over time. It was and still is beautiful. The story of evolution brings a smile to his face. Sometimes his previous life seemed like a distance past, a life of someone else. The old memories that are rust-colored in his own mind, as if through old lenses. He had been a statue, a force that only watched but never moved. It was hard to believe that had been his life.

His eyes skim the words on the page in front of him. Cellular functions, Sodium, Potassium, and ATP. His mind registers these things, but he has already begun to drift off into memories of his past. He sadly recalls his brothers and sisters, who were with him. Castiel grits his teeth slightly and closes his book. Today is not his day obviously. He feels haunted by the ghosts of his mind, his past and his present. Running a hand through his hair, he sighs.

"You okay, Cas?" Sam asks, always the perceptive Winchester.

"I don't know, Sam. I'm...confused."

"About Dean?" Sam says, straight faced and serious.

Castiel's eyes widen in surprise. He hates lying, and he is awful at it. However, he knows this is a conversation that Dean would abhor and that he shouldn't be discussing this with Sam. No, Dean would probably hurl a book at them both if he knew about this...maybe a knife.

"I-I don't know what you mean. Not about him, no." Castiel says, his eyes roaming upwards towards the ceiling.

"Come on man, I know" Sam says, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Castiel remains silent, and runs his hand through his messy hair. Sam sighs loudly.

"Alright, you don't wanna say anything. That's fine. I just wanna let you know that Dean will come around. He's dumb, irrational, and he can't handle his own feelings but he cares. So stop moping."

"Moping!" Castiel says in surprise. He pouts his lips slightly and folds his arms, making a stereotypically Dean expression. "I was not."

"Cas, dude, you look like you haven't slept all week. You look awful."

Castiel nods slowly in agreement, "that's true".

"I'm just sayin' that Dean looks at you the same way that I used to look at Jess. I'm not an idiot and it doesn't take a genius to figure it out." Sam has closed his laptop now and is looking directly at Castiel, his face wearing a small smile.

"Do you still think about her?" Castiel asks, attempting to shift the conversation elsewhere. It is a bit selfish, but Castiel feels more comfortable talking to others about their problems rather than his own. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thinks that this is something he shares in common with Dean, and that is probably unhelpful for either of them.

Sam looks down at his hands. "You know, sometimes I kind of forget that part of my life. Then I'll hear a song, or see someone on the street who has her same hair and it just kind hits me right here" Sam says, motioning to his chest. He shakes his head and laughs a little, "it is always the dumbest thing too, like hearing the worst song by Mariah Carey, and then I'll remember driving with Jess in her car and the way she would sing along".

Castiel looks down at his hands. Sometimes it is nice to speak with someone who is so open about their emotions. He used to think of Sam as an abomination, an annoyance. Sam was tied to Dean, so it was a package deal. Sam who drank demons blood and broke the last seal. Now here they are, and Castiel can only see Sam as a very close friend, who has the best intentions.

"I wish things had been different for you, Sam", Castiel says sincerely, locking eyes with Sam.

"I know. I figured out a long time ago though, to do the best with what I have. I'm lucky to still have Dean around...and you too Cas", he says with a smile.

Castiel smiles back, marveling once again at the strength in humans. Angels and demons had it all wrong. Leviathans too, Castiel thinks quickly.

* * *

Castiel lifts his eyes from his book as he hears the familiar sound of the impala outside. He looks at Sam across the table and lifts and eyebrow.

Dean saunters in the door, pausing briefly to throw his bag onto a chair. His eyes meet Castiel's for a moment before traveling to Sam.

"Hey..." he says, a little too loudly and awkwardly.

"Hello, Dean" Castiel returns as Sam stays silent. He keeps his eyes on the words on the page in front of him, letters swimming in his vision.

Dean walks forward, and puts his hand on Castiel's shoulder. "You forget how to shave?" he asks jokingly.

Sam clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable. "How'd the hunt go?"

"Wendigo in Wisconsin...got a little hairy but we iced him"

Castiel allows his eyes to wander from his book. Dean is favoring one foot more than the other. His hands are both wrapped in bandages, and he has several fresh cuts on his face and blood smeared on his neck that doesn't appear to be his. The blood is dry, but no more than a day old. Castiel's heart leaps a little at the thought of Dean rushing back, barely taking time to clean himself off. Dean is still facing Sam, but his hand hasn't left Castiel's shoulder.

Their conversation passes by Castiel too quickly, as he is busy watching Dean. He notices now that Dean's jacket is torn in several places, large gaping holes near the back. For a moment he imagines Dean's back, covered in cuts and bruises. Castiel furrows his brows and sighs a little.

Dean squeezes Castiel's shoulder and finally looks at him. Their eyes meet and Castiel can feel his world begin to spin again.

"We gotta talk." Dean says, before looking at Sam. "If you don't mind, we're gonna head out for a bit" he says, tilting his head towards the door. Castiel watches as unspoken words flow between them, as usual. Sam nods and grabs his computer, sauntering off towards his bedroom.


	9. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**: Arc of Time

Castiel's heart beats furiously as he follows Dean outside to the impala. He slides into the passenger seat, looking at his feet the entire time. He tries not to let his mind dwell on the image he has of Dean limping slightly, and the grimace on his face each time his injured foot stepped onto the hard ground. Instead, Castiel tries to plan out what to say to Dean.

His mind is racing as he realizes that this could be the end of everything. Maybe Dean didn't want him here anymore, or maybe he wanted someone else. He reminds himself to breathe, as he watches the outside begin to stream past him, blurring his vision slightly. Castiel sneaks a glance at Dean, who looks serious, but not angry.

Dean must notice, because he looks over at Castiel, their eyes catching. Dean's lips curve upwards in a small, reassuring grin.

"Are you hungry or anything?" Deans asks, his flicking quickly back to the road for a moment, then back towards Castiel.

"No...not particularly"

Castiel can't fathom eating right now. He feels nervous, unsure of what to expect from Dean. They had shared so much intimacy, more than Castiel had ever experienced before. Maybe he had done something wrong. The logical side of him reminds him to calm down, and not get upset until it is necessary.

Dean sighs a little, "Ok, well, maybe we can just park somewhere and talk".

Castiel nods back, looking down at his hands. His fingers intertwine, weaving a net, and he can already feel the annoyingly human perspiration beginning to form on them.

The car pulls into an empty lot, somewhere just outside a park. Dean turns the ignition and the low rum of the impala dies, leaving only silence between them. Castiel looks at Dean, turning his whole body to face him this time.

Dean lets out a small breathe before smiling at Cas. "I owe you an apology man. I'm sorry for taking off." he starts, hesitating slightly. He runs his hands over his pants and leans back into his chair before continuing, looking at Castiel for a cue.

"Oh, um, that's ok, Dean" Castiel says, unsure of what else he can say. It wasn't often that Dean apologized for his behavior, so Cas felt slightly better already. Anyway, his anger towards Dean had nearly dissipated once he had seen Dean walk in the door injured.

Dean shakes his head and laughs a little to himself. "This is hard...you know me, no touchy-feely crap."

"You don't have to if you don't want to" Cas says quietly, hoping that Dean doesn't take him up on the offer.

"No, Cas, the difference is that I _want_ to...with you. I'm just not very good at it."

Castiel smiles and raises his eyes from his lap. His heart is still in his throat and his stomach is turning, but this conversation seems to be going in a good direction.

"I'm glad, Dean. I just...I was confused, and-"

"I know, I know" Dean interrupts, "and that's my fault". Dean takes a deep breathe and closes his eyes for a moment before looking at Cas again.

"Look Cas, I don't understand a lot right now. One thing I do know though, is that you make me happy. Happier than any of the blonde haired girls, drinking whiskey in a bar...or anything like that. So ya man, I'm confused too but not really about how I feel about you. It's just new to me, and it scared me honestly."

Castiel can feel a large grin spreading across his face, and he reaches across the seat to grab a hold of Dean's hand. His fingers caress the rough callouses and he squeezes, but doesn't let go. His mind wraps around Dean's words, their meaning. The reassurance coats him like honey, but does little to calm the butterflies in his stomach.

He cocks his head to the side slightly, choosing his words carefully.

"You told me not to walk out on you. I feel the same way, Dean. About everything." Castiel can feel his cheeks begin to burn again, and his hands perspire. If he had a soul, it seemed like this is what it would feel like to have it laid bare in front of someone else. His eyes meet Dean's eyes, and Dean's face seems to fall slightly.

"I didn't mean to do that to you," he says, running his free hand through his hair. "God, I'm a hypocrite", he says sadly.

Castiel shakes his head at Dean, and inches closer. "You're such a good man, the best I've ever known. We have been through much, and you always put me back together when I'm a mess."

Dean laughs gently, his eyes shining slightly. "You do the same for me, Cas. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose _you_."

Their eyes meet, Castiel's filling with water. Dean leans forward slowly, pulling Castiel closer. Their foreheads rest against each other, as they both smile in the darkness. The dark doesn't seem as daunting anymore, and Castiel feels invincible when he is with Dean. Castiel's eyes close, as he feels Dean's rough fingers wiping away the tears on his cheeks, followed by a soft brush against his lips.

Dean pulls back and smirks slightly before turning the keys in the ignition again. Castiel pouts his lips slightly and glares slightly at Dean, who notices and laughs. He reaches over Castiel and opens the glove-box, fumbling around slightly before finding whatever he was looking for.

"We aren't heading back yet" he says, grinning as he pops in an old looking tape. "This was my dads but he didn't listen to it much because it reminded him of Mom. I've always liked it though." His hands expertly skip several tracks. Apparently he has a particular song in mind.

"Scoot back" Dean says, gesturing for Castiel to lean back against the passenger side door. Castiel obliges, as Dean turns to face the same direction and lean back into Castiel's lap. His head is resting on Castiel's stomach and he looks up to smile softly. Cas can't help thinking that Dean is really bossy, but that it is sort of nice sometimes. Like now. He wraps one arm around Dean, resting his hand on Dean's stomach, while the other hand idly strokes Dean's hair, which still smells like fresh shampoo and a little like wood chips.

"You gotta listen to this song, Cas. It's really, really good," Dean says suddenly, tilting his head up towards Cas. Cas nods and closes his eyes, resting his lips on the top of Dean's head. The gentle guitar sounds fill the air, and the softness of the song is surprising. Most of Dean's music involved catchy guitar riffs and heavy drum lines. This was a pleasant change. Not that Castiel ever really paid much attention to music, but this seemed important to Dean, and he felt himself enjoying the words a lot more than the lyrics of most songs. He smiles slightly, as he realizes it is a love song...and that Dean was sharing it with him.

"I like this, Dean," he whispers into Dean's ear, as the song ends. Dean reaches up and rewinds the tape, starting the same song over again, before settling back into Castiel's embrace.

"It's called In My Life. It's by The Beatles. My mom loved them."

"She had good taste."

Dean nods and starts to sing along with the music, humming here and there. Castiel closes his eyes and reaches both arms around Dean, holding him close. Cas can't help but want this to go on forever. He had been broken so many times, he had lost himself for a while too, but Dean never gave up on him. He'd finally found his only little slice of heaven, and it was worth everything he had given up. He didn't know how he fell, he still couldn't remember, but he couldn't help but feel slightly grateful for it now. All he had to do was hold onto this moment, and he knew that he could never feel lost again.

The warmth of Dean's body against his, the firmness of Dean's arms that are reaching up around Castiel's neck, pulling him into a long kiss.

"Yes, this is heaven" Castiel murmurs between kisses.


	10. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**: Spin

The next few weeks seemed to go by in a blur. They had fallen into a comfortable routine, and everything was going well. Dean and Sam still took turns going on hunts, but neither one was gone for very long. They had an unsaid agreement to hunt only in the nearby area unless something was really important. Sam had even signed up for some online classes, since he'd been considering getting his graduate degree. Dean had made fun of him and acted like he hated the idea, asking Sam why he would _choose_ to study. Castiel would sometimes help Sam, enjoying the mind exercises, while Dean would shoot them nasty glares. Cas could only smile to himself, because he knew how immensely proud Dean really was.

Their sleeping arrangements had altered slightly. Castiel's permanent position was in Dean's bed. Castiel wasn't sure if Sam was aware of this, but he never said anything about it. They were cautious around Sam. Castiel didn't particularly mind though. Dean always found some way to be close to Cas. They would hold hands underneath the table, or Dean would drape his arms over Castiel's shoulder in a comfortable position. Castiel assumed that Dean would speak to Sam about this at some point, when he was comfortable with it, so he never pushed the issue.

Somehow, Castiel found that nighttime was his favorite. It didn't take much to figure out why. All pretenses were dropped once he was alone with Dean. They could touch freely, as well as speak openly. This was Castiel's favorite part of the day. He would wrap his arms around Dean, and Dean would snuggle against his body. The space between them was nonexistent. Some nights they would be silent, Cas holding Dean until he started to fidget too much, and would turn over onto his other side, Dean following suit. They hadn't moved beyond kissing, but this suited Cas fine for now.

There were times that Dean would talk about his childhood. He'd tell fond stories of Sam, of how he'd watched Sam in a school play or when he tried to help Sam with homework, but the kid was so damn smart he never really needed help. Other times he would talk about his father, but the good memories were few. Sometimes Dean would talk about Jo, and how he missed her and her mother. He missed a lot of people, but they never went near the topic of Bobby. Castiel was grateful for this, because he couldn't bear to think of it himself. He sometimes wondered how Dean could have forgiven him. If it weren't for Castiel, there wouldn't have been leviathans...and in turn, Bobby would still be here. This was a topic that both of them stayed very clear of.

Castiel would listen intently, savoring every word from Dean's mouth. Sometimes Dean even talked about purgatory, with a mix of sadness and pride. Cas hated it when Dean talked about purgatory. Those were usually the nights that Dean would mumble in his sleep, crying out occasionally, before waking and grumbling back to sleep. These nights, Castiel would barely sleep, holding Dean to him as tightly as he could, cradling him in his arms, even as Dean's body heat was suffocating and oftentimes drenched in sweat. Castiel didn't mind.

Some nights, Castiel would tell Dean about the things he had seen in his lifetime. The growth of humanity. He explained to Dean that it was like looking back through an aged pair of glasses. Some of his memories were so old, he felt like they belonged to someone else. They would occasionally laugh over their first time meeting. The ridiculous scenario, and how far they had come since then. They didn't talk often about their conflicted past. They spoke in broad, safe terms.

Castiel loved their nights more than anything he had ever experienced. Initially, Dean would only open up while he was facing the opposite wall, Castiel's body pressed against his back. Eventually though, Dean would turn and face Cas. He would talk, and when he was really animated, he spoke volumes with his hand motions and expressions. There were times when they'd both be reading, or Dean would borrow Sam's laptop so they could watch a movie. This seemed to really please Dean. He always told Cas proudly that it was his "duty" to introduce him to fine culture. Often times, this included Japanese animated movies, sitcoms, or fantasy movies. Castiel didn't mind. It was comfortable watching movies with Dean, and he found himself able to understand more of Dean's references. Truthfully, he found himself sometimes too entranced by Dean to watch most shows, but occasionally he'd be drawn in despite his protests, and would lose himself in a story.

They would curl up for bed, Dean going on and on about whatever they had watched. Castiel really disliked westerns, but he didn't dare tell Dean until they had spent a full week watching Clint Eastwood movies. When he finally asked Dean if they could take a break from watching westerns, Dean looked like he had been shot. He'd looked at Cas and jokingly punched him in the arm before telling him it was fine.

Their nights weren't the only fun part of the though. They would go out to eat at a diner nearby, Dean always choosing to slide in next to Castiel. Sam didn't seem to notice or care, it just meant more room for him. Dean's hand would always find itself resting on Castiel's knee, which he didn't complain about. The normalcy had become routine, and Castiel loved when they left the bunker. It had taken a while, but Dean and Sam had loosened up about it, although they always shot worried glanced at each other when the door to the diner would open abruptly, or when they were in a store and someone would bump into one of them accidentally. Again, Castiel wasn't sure what they were exactly hiding from. The usual suspects he assumed, demons and probably angels too, but he didn't question it.

After months of wearing Dean's clothing, they'd finally taken Cas to get his own clothing. It would have been boring if it hadn't been for the amusing bickering between Sam and Dean. He didn't care what he wore, and he had been pouting slightly at not being able to wear Dean's clothing anymore. They asked him what size pants he wore, which of course, he had no idea. This led to Dean amusingly checking Cas's pants tag, while Sam pretended to be interested in a rack of plaid shirts.

In the end, they had settled on several black and white undershirts, a few band shirts that Dean had chosen, some plaid shirts chosen by Sam, and jeans. They didn't forget to pick up some pajamas, as well as a coat since it would be winter soon. Cas liked the coat he had picked out for himself. It was black, had several pockets, and fit well, slightly better than the ones he had been borrowing from Dean. Sam found a trench-coat similar to the one Castiel used to wear, and jokingly held it up to Cas. Dean had rolled his eyes and made a face, while Cas found himself looking at it warily. He'd laughed but told Sam that he wasn't that same Cas anymore, so he didn't want to look like the old version of himself. He caught Dean grinning out of the corner of his eyes, so he knew they were both on the same page about that.

Before they checked-out, Dean had said he had to run and grab one more thing. He came back with black dress pants, a royal blue button down, with a black tie. He'd looked slightly sheepish as he thrust them into the cart and explained to Sam that Cas would need nice clothes if he was going to pretend to be FBI with them. Sam had rolled his eyes at this, while Dean winked at Cas and whispered to Cas that the blue would look nice with his eyes. The shopping process hadn't been entirely painful.

That wasn't the only new experience that Castiel had. Dean had finally decided that Castiel needed a haircut, since his hair had began to fall over his ears and it was getting harder to tame. Occasionally Sam would make an awkward comment that Cas had constant sex-hair, before looking expectantly between Dean and Cas. Dean usually responding by asking Sam if he planned to grow his hair long enough to wear in pigtails, to braid, or if he was aiming to become Chewbacca...to which Sam would grin and run a hand through his hair and reply "maybe". The haircut hadn't been too bad, it was quick, and Castiel felt cleaner. Dean seemed to like his hair this way as well, so that was a plus-side.

The most unpleasant though, had been when Dean and Sam forced Cas to get an anti-possession tattoo. They'd both shown him theirs, and explained that it didn't hurt much and that it saved them a lot of trouble...well except for angels and fallen angels wanting to possess them. The parlor was small and dirty, but the artist was a friendly brunette, who took an immediate liking to Castiel. She was short, and her arms were covered in tattoos. Castiel figured that if he had to desecrate his body, he was lucky that at least the person doing so was amiable.

Dean gave her a printout image of what Cas was to get tattooed, and showed her his own, as well as Sam's. She nodded and examined the image closely before shrugging. "Is this a gang thing?" she asked with a laugh, raising her eyebrows at Castiel. He had shaken his head no, trying not to laugh. When she asked him where he wanted it, he had felt embarrassed for a moment. He'd been up late thinking about it, and he wanted it somewhere more private and personal. This was truly it, this was him being a human. Having to ward his body off from demon possession. He'd decided on a spot, but he hadn't told Dean or Sam.

Cas had pointed to the area next to his right hip bone, tugging his pants down slightly to show her. A wide grin spread across her face as she told him that was a good spot, while Sam rolled his eyes and Dean told Cas that it was "kind of girly". The tattoo artist had just laughed and chastised Dean, telling him that at least it wasn't a tramp stamp, to which he grinned and his eyes sparked in amusement. The tattoo process itself wasn't terribly painful, and Castiel had certainly withstood more pain before. Dean sat by his side though, watching the entire thing, while Sam milled around and played games on his phone. Castiel found that if he grimaced a little, Dean would squeeze his hand, so he found himself making more of a show than was really necessary.

When they were done, the woman has explained the healing process and made a point to say no strenuous activity, her eyes flickering between Cas and Dean. She'd done a nice job, but Castiel was happy to have this over with. As the three of them stood at the register, paying, the woman asked Dean how long they'd been together. To which Sam had burst out laughing before stepping quickly outside to avoid Dean punching him in the face. Dean had stammered some small response to her, quickly signing his name to a credit card that wasn't his.

Often, they would practice fighting, and took turns showing Cas how to use an assortment of firearms. The gun training went quickly, as Cas had some experience with it already, and he was a quick learner. He was particularly skilled in knife-combat, so he enjoyed reversing the roles and showing Dean and Sam a new thing or two. The worst though, was sparring. He still had to master his own strength and weaknesses. This comprised most of their free time lately, as Dean had noted that Cas needed to be able to properly defend himself.

Between the hunter-in-training sessions, and his late nights with Dean, Castiel found himself extremely busy. All he knew was that he had lost it all, and found it again with his new home, his family, with Dean.


	11. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**: Baptized by Fire

Castiel's vision goes hazy as Dean's first connects with his jaw. He stumbles backwards, trying not to fall. He blinks and shakes his head, allowing himself a moment before his sight is clear again. Dean is grinning smugly, and biting his lip.

"Sorry, Cas. I didn't think I was hitting that hard," he says sheepishly. Castiel shakes his head and motions for Dean to come at him again. This was an everyday thing now, sparring with Dean. It doesn't seem to be too effective, because Dean rarely hits him hard enough for Castiel to need to learn to steel his body against a blow. It is against his nature. If Dean had hit him when he was angel, Dean would only find himself with some broken knuckles. Castiel could evade easily enough. He and Dean were on par there. That wasn't the point though.

Dean comes at Castiel again, but Castiel is ready this time. He leans to the side, just out of reach of Dean's incoming fist. He grabs Dean's wrist, and in a moment has Dean's arm behind his back. Dean grumbles something that sounds like "cheater" under his breathe, before elbowing Castiel in the ribs and using the moment to flip himself around and land a punch again in the ribs. Castiel falls backwards, losing his footing.

Dean extends out a hand, to help lift him back to his feet. Castiel was so conditioned to be an immovable object, who could throw a man with the smallest effort. He had the mechanics of fighting, but he didn't have the instinct for it in the same way. It was rewiring his mind to fight like a human, and it was tedious. Every day was this, sparring with bare fists, and sometimes including a weapon.

Castiel really wasn't into it right now. He hadn't slept well, and Sam had made Cas join him for a run this morning before Sam left to run some errands for school.

"Come on, Dean. Do we need to do this today?" he asks, pleading. Dean rolls his eyes, since Castiel says this practically every day.

"Here, we can use knives for a bit if that makes you feel better" he says, tossing Castiel's old blade to him.

Castiel catches it midair, and twirls it in his fingers. The familiarity is soothing, and he feels that realistically, he'd do fine in a fight if he had a knife. If there was one thing Castiel had been surprised to learn about himself, was that he was competitive. Maybe that was why sparring endlessly was such an irritation. With his knife, he felt on more equal footing, and that was enough to drive him.

He grins at Dean, who smirks in return. Dean is agile, Castiel gives him that. He isn't necessarily strong, not in the same way that Sam is. He is fast, and he doesn't easily lose his ground. Castiel is faster though, smaller, and certainly a little weaker, but the differences in their fighting styles make them an interesting match.

Castiel gains an inch, but he loses it the second Dean's fist connects with his stomach. He has Dean on his back, and he thinks he has won, but you can't ever count Dean out even when he's down. Castiel is pinned to the ground next, and Dean is grinning wickedly. They are careful not to actually harm one another, admitting knife wounds where they would naturally be. Castiel uses his last strength to push Dean off of him and whirls around, catching Dean's arm with his knife accidentally. He ignores the small line of red on Dean's white undershirt, and grabs Dean's arm, wrapping it behind his back. Castiel uses his knees to push Dean forward, into a kneeling position on the floor. Dean's free hand is clenched into a tight fist around his knife, but Castiel sees it before Dean can take action. He kicks the knife, and stands close behind Dean, letting his knife rest against Dean's throat.

"Jerk. You kicked my hand." Dean says, annoyed.

Castiel is slightly amused, but proud. He and Dean are very even fighters, and Dean had beaten him the last few days. The competitive side of Cas is immensely pleased, even though he does feel a small twinge of guilt for hurting Dean accidentally.

He drops his knife on a nearby table and helps Dean to his feet.

"Sorry I cut you there," Cas says, motioning to the small red line on Dean's shirt.

Dean sighs with annoyance, but smiles at Castiel anyway. "Not a big deal, I'll just toss it in the wash tonight," he says, as he takes the shirt off. Castiel tries not to let his eyes give him away too much, but he can't help but gaze at Dean appreciatively. His arms are strong and toned, but he isn't built like Sam is. There is a softness to him as well. Castiel ignores the urge to rest his hands against Dean's chest, or to place his hands on Dean's hips.

Dean retreats to the bathroom for a moment, returning with some gauze and paper tape. He holds it out towards Castiel and raises his eyebrows.

"Your fault, you fix it", he says with a grin.

Castiel licks his lips nervously for a moment, trying to fight the urge to again press his body close to Dean. Now that he thought about it, he didn't think he'd ever seen Dean with his shirt off. They both sleep with their clothing on. His fingers fumble over the gauze, as he wipes the blood away with an alcohol pad. His eyes narrow as he notices the small sprinkling of freckles over Dean's shoulders and slightly onto his back. They are light, almost not noticeable, but Cas notices them.

His hands expertly apply two strips of tape over the gauze, his fingers brushing gently across Dean's skin. Dean looks at Cas, through lowered eyelids, a smirk still plastered to his face. Castiel can barely stand it anymore, and part of him wants to shock Dean slightly, at least enough to remove that smirk!

Castiel wraps one arm around Dean's waist, and pulls him in close. Dean watches expectantly, but also curiously. He likes it when Cas lets loose and surprises him. Dean was usually the one who initiated their physical contact, once they were safely alone in their bedroom, or parked in the car outside their familiar park. It was exciting when they changed it up.

Castiel moves his lips closer to Dean's, but he doesn't let them touch. His free hand is moving around Dean's torso, feeling the surprisingly soft skin. For such a rugged and worn man, Dean is still gentle and soft at the core. Cas can feel Dean's sharp inhales, as his fingers tease at Dean's hip bone.

"Dammit, Cas, you tease", Dean says, finally wrapping his arms around Castiel and pulling him close so that their lips touch. Castiel's heart is beating out of control, as a moan escapes his throat. He staggers forward, pushing Dean against a table, one hand tugging and Dean's hair, the other one clasped around Dean's hip. Dean's eyes are closed, as he tilts his head backwards, his own words escaping through bated breaths.

"Oh, god, yes"

Castiel's eyes flicker over Dean's face...his pouty lips, long eyelashes, and exposed neck. Castiel softly kisses Dean's neck, tracing his way up along Dean's jawline. He dances around Dean's lips, as Dean lets out soft moans and curse words. Castiel's fingers tug gently at Dean's jeans, although his stops for a moment when he realizes that he's not sure what he'd be getting himself into with that. He pulls Dean closer, finding Dean's lips finally and kissing him hard.

Dean's eyes flick open, and he pushes Castiel backwards.

"I just heard the impala. Sam's home," he says groaning. Castiel rolls his eyes, tired of acting as if Sam has no idea what is going on between the two of them.

Dean looks at Cas, "Great, you've got a boner", he says sarcastically. Castiel raises one eyebrow at Dean. He'd gotten pretty good at human responses.

"So do you."


	12. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**: Hide and Seek

Castiel is sitting down, pretending to flip through some magazine that had been on the table, ensuring that his lap is covered, while Dean leans against the table, one leg crossed over the other.

Sam walks in the door, and glances between Castiel and Dean, who still is shirtless.

"Dude, gross," are the first words out of his mouth. He wrinkles his nose and glares at Dean slightly.

Dean leans back and tilts his head towards Sam. "What the hell, man? I was just bandaging a cut," Dean says as he slips his arms through his shirt again.

"Whatever".

Castiel looks quickly back at his magazine, and pretends to be reading an article about old cars. Sam takes his coat off and raises a hand to wave hello at Cas. He looks between Dean and Cas again, before shrugging and walking towards the kitchen.

Dean looks at Cas and rolls his eyes, whispering, "He seems grumpy as hell". Castiel can't help feel it is perhaps because of the fact that he was continuously forced out of the house, whether to go on a hunt, or to run errands, or just to escape the feeling of being a third wheel. The irony wasn't entirely lost on Cas, who had been the third wheel for so long. He highly doubted that Sam would want to hear again, about how a third wheel would add stability.

Sam walks back out, eating an apple. His poor attitude seems to be satiated slightly as he sees Dean is dressed, and has pulled the Sam's computer onto his lap. Castiel feels the need to explain the situation to Sam, as to not continue to make anything awkward.

"We were sparring, Sam. I accidentally cut Dean."

"Nice" he says, but a small smile has replaced his frown. "Hey, I'd be up for some sparring actually. I know Dean goes easy on you."

"Hey, watch it, Sammy," Dean grumbles, but his eyes are fixed on Cas. Castiel closes his magazine and figures he is alright to stand up now, so he does so.

He narrows his eyes at Sam for a moment, before deciding that this might be a good idea. While he and Sam are fine when it is just them, there was always a small hint of annoyance, possibly even hostility, when it was the three of them. If this would help to quell that, he was happy to spar Sam, even though it most likely means bandaging some bruises the next morning.

"That would be fine", Castiel says, stretching to the side and rolling his shoulders back several times. Luckily the room is still set up from before, and Dean only has to move some chairs back for them to have ample space.

Castiel shoots a glance at Dean, whose body is tense and rigid. His lips are forming a hard line as he shoots lazers into the back of Sam's head. He gets up and strides into the kitchen quickly, before returning with a bottle of whiskey and a glass.

"Good times, guys," he says, as he takes a drink from his glass and holds it up to the Sam and Cas. Cas ignores Dean's tantrum, and focuses on Sam. Sam who seems twice his size. He sees the punch coming but it connects before he can react. It hits him in the chest, and he stumbles backwards, but makes sure not to fall. He doesn't hesitate, ducking to the side as Sam throws another punch, he drops to his knees and hits Sam back in the side. He realizes a little too late that he had actually punched harder than he expected.

Expecting the recoil, he tries to say "sorry", but Sam's fist connects first, knocking Castiel back hard against the ground. His head connects with the floor, and he sees blackness briefly before several odd images flash through his mind, none of which he recognizes.

When Castiel opens his eyes, Dean is pressing a rag to the back of his head and he is propped up in a chair. He blinks several times, allowing the room to come into better focus.

"I am so, so sorry, Cas! I didn't mean to hit you so hard, and then your head hit the ground really hard. I swear, I didn't mean to actually hurt you. I was being stupid and-"

"Damn right you were being stupid," Dean interjects. He shoves a glass full of whiskey towards Cas, and tells him to drink. "If you can, hold this towel to your head...you were bleeding a little bit, I'm gonna grab some more gauze pads for you".

Castiel's head is already throbbing, and he takes one sip of the alcohol before putting it down on the table behind him. He watches, still slightly dazed, as Dean motions for Sam to follow him to the kitchen. Dean's wearing his angry face, the face that meant "don't fuck with me", and Cas knows that Sam is in some trouble.

It isn't a moment later that he hears Dean, yelling in a way that is meant to be quiet. "What the fuck did you think you were doing?!"

Sam's response is inaudible, but Cas expects it won't be long before Sam starts to yell back.

"What the hell is wrong with you lately? You storm in here all pissed off, and then make Cas _fight_ you," Dean hisses.

"I dunno man, you know, I can ask you the same damn question. You aren't exactly Mr. Honesty with me!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what I mean, Dean."

"No, why don't you come out and say it."

"What the hell is going on between you and Cas? And don't give me some bullshit line either. I'm not an idiot."

Castiel leans his body towards the kitchen, hoping to catch more of their conversation. Their voices have died down now. He figures he is fine to stand, so he inches closer to the kitchen, pressing his body against the doorway. This feels like an invasion of privacy, but he can't help himself. It was easier when he could hear everything as an angel. At least then, eavesdropping was not something he could help.

"So is this like, a fling? I mean, or is it all "I love you and need you" levels or something?" Sam asks, his voice devoid of any of his initial anger or annoyance.

Dean sighs, and Castiel is sure that Dean has just rolled his eyes. This is an answer he is very keen to hear.

"It's Cas, you know...I mean, I don't know. I guess it is closer to the love thing, or whatever."

"Look man, I am happy for you. I've just been sick of you pretending like I couldn't know. I'm sick of having to leave, because you two want to be together and stuff. It doesn't bother me. I just want you to know that."

"Well you kinda just kicked the crap out of my guy out there..."

"Dude, I know. I'm sorry," Sam says before briefly pausing and asking "Have you told him about heaven and what happened?".

Castiel tries to listen further, but his head is pounding and the room begins to spin. He collapses against the ground, and lets out a small yell. "What the hell is going on?" he says, clasping his hands to the side of his head. Flashes of motion blur in front of him, a room he recognizes, heaven. Naomi, before she disappears, and more yelling. Castiel rubs his eyes, bringing himself back to the present.

Dean is kneeling by his side, while Sam is busy checking his pulse and propping his head up. His head feels heavy, and he notices a small amount of blood on the floor next to Dean. He assumes he hit his head again.

"Concussion?" Sam asks, looking at Dean. The guilt covers his face, which hasn't looked this troubled in a while. His brow is furrowed and his eyes keep flickering between Castiel and Dean.

"I'm ok," Cas says, pulling himself up. He is oriented again to the present, and he doesn't want to worry them further. "I think I should lay down though".

Sam and Dean somehow both maneuver Castiel into Dean's bedroom. Sam doesn't say a word about it. He won't stop apologizing, to which Castiel tells him repeatedly that it is fine. He means it too, but he has so many thoughts swimming through his mind. He wants to reel them in, one at a time, to sort through them all.

Sam finally leaves them, once Castiel's head is thoroughly bandaged and once he's taken adequate amounts of aspirin for his head. Dean helps Cas change into his pajama bottoms, and into a shirt that doesn't have blood on it. He has remained nearly silent; a look of fear and worry seems to be etched into every line on his face.

"You heard, didn't you?" he finally says, once they are settled into bed. This time, Dean has his arms wrapped protectively around Castiel. They are both sitting up still, heads against the wall behind their bed.

Castiel takes a moment to consider which part Dean is implying. The part about heaven, the part he had _not_ yet told Cas about, or about the love thing. Cas isn't sure which part is more frightening. He settles on the love thing, since he didn't want to get into a long discussion right now. Not when his head is throbbing, and he has fresh images in his head of heaven, and that he isn't sure he wants to tell that to Dean yet.

"Yeah, I heard. I'm glad I'm not just a fling," he says, smiling at Dean, flicking his eyes elsewhere in the room. Damn, it was impossible to keep secrets from Dean, and it always had been. Thankfully, Dean doesn't seem to notice.

Dean laughs softly and pulls Castiel closer. He is touching Castiel with delicate hands, every moment is careful and restrained. It sometimes still surprised Castiel, how Dean could be all fiery passion and aggression balled into one, but that he was also incredibly soft, gentle, tactile, and compassionate. Dean hadn't said a word as he'd changed Castiel, although it had been the most bare Cas had ever been in front of Dean. Dean had treated Castiel's wounds, and it was all without an air of needing to be thanked.

Castiel mulls this over in his mind, as he yawns and scoots down underneath the blankets. Dean wraps his warm arm around Castiel, and is careful to not let his other hand drape too closely to Castiel's injured head. He tries to sort his thoughts, putting them in order, but it is like catching running water with your fingertips.

Before long, he is drifting between dreams, which he hadn't had until this night.


	13. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**: Song Beneath the Song

The next morning, Castiel wakes up to find Dean carrying a small tray in the door. Dean had obviously been trying to be quiet, but he had stubbed his toe against the door frame and let a string of curses leave his mouth. Castiel opens one eye lazily at Dean, and groans, rolling over. His head is splitting and the previous night's events had left him confused, and he found no escape in sleep. As much as he wants to brush off his bad mood, it didn't seem to be particularly easy this morning.

Dean sets the tray on the desk in the room and crawls into the bed, snaking his arms around Castiel's waist, and kissing him gently on the ear, pulling him into an embrace.

"You hands are freezing," Castiel says, trying not to sound too distant. He squirms his body a small bit away from Dean, and rolls over so that they are now facing each other. Dean's easy smile has been replaced by a look of concern.

"Are you pissed about something?"

He had questions about the whole heaven comment that Sam had made, but he figured he would soon discern the true meaning. Just not right now. Castiel takes a deep breathe, and shakes his head. He might be lying a little bit, but his outward annoyance seems to be mostly because he is in a bad mood from lack of sleep, and an intense headache.

"Good," Dean says, as he pulls Castiel closer and plants a gentle kiss on his forehead. Dean slides back out of the bed and motions with his hands for Cas to sit up. He places the tray on Castiel's lap, and grins at Cas.

Castiel surveys the food, suddenly feeling very hungry. He hadn't eaten dinner last night, and Dean had made one of his favorite meals.

"Sam said your blood sugar might be low since you didn't eat last night, so I figured I'd make you some pancakes since you love him," Dean says with a wide grin. He was obviously proud of himself. Castiel can't help but grin as he digs into his food. He covers his pancakes with jelly, which Dean always makes fun of.

"This is very good, Dean. Thank you," Cas says, trying not to smile with his mouth full. As he takes another bite, he raises an eyebrow at Dean, "You even remembered that I hate syrup!", which of course makes Dean laugh and shake his head.

"Who hates syrup?"

Castiel already feels much better, having eaten, and Dean had also remembered to give him some more aspirin for his head. The medications had taken effect rather quickly, quelling any residual pain from the night before. Dean is looking at the cut on Castiel's head now, trying to pull away the gauze without tearing out Castiel's hair.

"This cut is actually really minor, it is already scabbed over, so you don't need a bandaid or anything over it," Dean assures him. Castiel smiles, closing his eyes, as Dean gently rubs his hands through his hair.

"I figured as much. Head injuries tend to blood more profusely due to the many blood vessels on the scalp," Cas replies, his eyes still closed.

"Woah there, Dr. Sexy," Dean replies, biting at Castiel's ear slightly.

"Mmm, that feels nice," Castiel murmurs, leaning backwards against Dean more and keeping his eyes closed. Dean gets the hint, because he continues running both hands through Castiel's hair, moving from the base of his neck, upwards towards his forward. He occasionally leans forward and bites on Cas's ear and leaves a trail of kisses along his neck.

Castiel ventures to ask Dean one of the minor things that had crossed his mind since the night before. He figured he'd start small, and work his way upwards. "Would you consider me your...boyfriend? I don't feel much of a need for labels, but it seems to be important to most humans."

Dean seems to ponder this for a moment, before responding. "I guess so, Cas. If that would be ok with you..." he trails off.

"It would be. The interesting thing is, as angel, I guess I was essentially genderless. Some angels identified more with one gender than another...for me though, I never gave it much thought." Castiel tilts his head upwards, his eyes meeting with Dean's.

"Keep explaining, it's interesting. I guess we just always kind of figured you were a guy angel, who was just kind of a gay angel," he says laughing.

"This body, that was just a vessel before, was a man's. I do feel more comfortable within it though, than I did with the girl, Claire". At this, Castiel laughs a little bit and pinches Dean's knee before saying, "Imagine how lucky you are that I am in this body, and not the body of a child."

Dean scowls in return, "Hey man, that is _not_ funny. That would suck." Castiel laughs and turns to face Dean, cupping his face in his hands. He kisses him quickly on the lips, before pulling back and smiling again.

"I guess we have been lucky about a _few_ things then," Castiel says with a wink, while standing up and stretching.

* * *

By the time they head downstairs, Castiel is in a significantly better mood. He'd had coffee as well, so he no longer felt groggy, and it had been hard to remain angry when Dean's mere touch was enough to send his heart pounding.

Sam is sitting at the table, working on what appears to be some research for class. He has several books spread in front of him, and he is biting his lip in concentration.

"Good morning," Castiel says, hoping that Sam isn't still feeling guilty. Sam looks up, and it is obvious that he still feels awful. He opens his mouth, but Castiel holds up a hand to stop him. He already knows what Sam is going to say. "Don't apologize, there's no need. It was an accident."

Sam nods, although he doesn't look entirely convinced. Dean pats Sam on the back, a sign that things are back to normal between them. He grabs his coat, and waves at Sam and Castiel.

"I'm gonna run the errands today so Sam can work on his homework without hiding at the library," he says with a smile before walking out the door. Castiel knows this was Dean's plan all along, to make sure that Sam and Cas had cleared the air between them.

Castiel drums his fingers absently against the table, and looks around the room. He isn't sure what else to say to Sam, so he figures he should just ask about what Sam is working on.

"Is that for your history course?"

"Yup, ancient civilizations. It's pretty interesting though," Sam says.

"I can help you, if you'd like. I was there."

Sam laughs and runs his hands through his hair. "That is so strange, I kind of forget that you've been around forever." He pauses a moment, before nodding and saying "Ya, I'd actually love some help". Castiel figures this is just a peace-offer, since Sam rarely asked for much help, but he accepts it.

They worked quietly at first; Cas looking through books and placing sticky notes on pages that might be of interest to Sam. Every so often, Sam would get up and get more coffee for the two of them. Cas didn't typically drink much coffee, but he figured it wouldn't hurt. Even if he did usually like his coffee to be mostly sugar and creamer.

By the time lunch came around, they had given up on homework, and Sam was showing Castiel funny youtube videos. Sam said it was easier with Cas, because he hadn't seen any of the popular stuff. They had all but cleared the air between them.

When Sam made them lunch, he put away his computer so they could talk. Sam described his courses to Cas, and how it made him realize how much he'd missed school. That if the opportunity came up, he'd love to become a professor.

"Not a lawyer?" Castiel asks, confused.

"Naw, now that I'm older, I think I was really idealistic about it. I don't think I'd enjoy it as much as I liked to pretend I would, you know?"

Cas nods, and he can easily picture Sam in a classroom teaching. "That makes sense".

"So, Dean thinks that I've been hiding out at the library because I was pissed at the two of you. I didn't know how to tell him, but that's not entirely true."

Castiel's interest piques at this, and loses all interest in the salad he had been eating. "Oh, then why were you always leaving?".

Sam laughs and shakes his head, "It's gonna sound stupid. But there's this girl, and she's really cool. So I go there and pretend to be working really hardcore, but honestly I'm just looking for chances to talk to her more."

Castiel smiles, and narrows his eyes at Sam. "So, you weren't upset with us?"

"No, not really. I just wanted to push Dean into talking to me, and he won't ever open up unless he has to. I mean, not to me anyway."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. I'm really happy that Dean finally told you as well," Cas tilts his head to the side a little bit, "and I guess that I'm Dean's boyfriend now, and it is nice that you can know that". Castiel thinks to himself that it is also nice that _he_ knows that now too. He hadn't thought labels were important, but in this case, it felt like a blanket of security wrapped around his doubts.

Sam laughs and shakes his head again, "I never thought I would hear those words, you know, but I'm just glad you are both happy. I've been watching you guys for years, wondering when you'd both figure it out."

Castiel looks at Sam, confused. "Years?"

Sam just grins and pats Cas on the shoulder as he stands up with his plate, "You'll realize that too one day."


	14. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**: Falling Down

Dean returns from the store, several bags of groceries hanging from his left arm as he holds his phone up with his other arm. His eyebrows furrow and he asks a few questions before hanging up. His eyes trail from Castiel to Sam, and then back to Castiel. He seems satisfied enough, as small grin growing over his face. He reaches into one of the bags and grabs a small black notebook which he tosses to Castiel.

Castiel catches the notebook with one hand, nodding appreciatively towards Dean. His hands trace the cover, and he opens it, feeling the resistance in the unmoved binding of the pages. He had asked Dean to pick this up for him, which had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now he wasn't so sure. The stark white pages are crisp and clean, undisturbed. Cas isn't sure even what to write in it, but he starts with what he knows. He grabs a pen from the table, one of Sam's, and he chews on the cap for a moment before taking it off to write.

"_I am Castiel. My friends call me Cas. I was once an angel, but I am no longer. I was lost. I don't think I am yet found, but I am getting there."_

He eyes his handiwork, the soft flowing of ink, and smiles. Turning the intangible into something tangible made it easier to sort out his emotions. Again, Castiel's mind drifts back to the previous night, and Sam's mention of heaven. His lack of memory was beginning to weigh heavily on his mind. He saw flashes, glimpses of his life after escaping purgatory, but it was a jumbled mess. It was like seeing broken images of a stained glass painting.

Castiel shakes his head, trying to avoid these thoughts as he watches Dean walk back into the room. Dean has a smile on his face, which means Castiel is immediately suspicious. He narrows his eyes slightly at Dean who slides into the chair next to him. Castiel can't help but notice the comfortable ease that Dean seems to be in as he places his hand on his knee and squeezes gently.

"Garth just called, he got a tip about a haunting about 3 hours from here. It isn't far, seems like a simple salt and burn," he says, his eyes wide and eager.

Castiel nods at Dean, waiting for Sam and Dean to bicker over who would take care of it. He is instead taken by surprise when Dean suggests that Cas comes with them. Castiel's eyes open wide and a wide grin takes over his face.

"I would love to, Dean," he replies as he ignores Sam stifling a smile behind his computer screen. Dean stands up and claps his hands together, excitement changing him from a grown man into a child. He pats Castiel on the back.

"You're coming too, right Sam?" he asks absently while he throws a couple things into their hunting bag.

Sam takes a deep breath and leans back in his chair. "Look, I was actually hoping I could sit this one out. Homework and stuff…"

Dean laughs and waves his hand dismissively, "Ya, whatever, little brother. I can tell when you're crushing on a girl…you just wanna stay and get your flirt on with the hot librarian" he says with a laugh and an eyebrow raise.

Sam opens his mouth to protest but he can only laugh and shrug his shoulders slightly.

"I'm the older one Sammy, I know everything," Dean warns; a goofy grin on his face. Castiel can't help but laugh as well, relieved to see the ease with which their lives had returned to normal. He also realizes that they had most likely been planning for a while to have Cas start joining them on their hunts again, which was a relief. Castiel was tired of being useless, and he was eager to get back to helping people.

It is nearly dark as the impala rolls into an abandoned street near the old farmhouse. The country highway is silent, only the occasional truck lights up the surrounding areas. Dean had briefed Castiel on their drive, and it seemed simple enough.

Castiel's old knife was tucked into his jacket, and he had a gun in his pocket. They were waiting until nightfall, which Cas had questioned, until Dean explained that they didn't want the cops called on them. Cas had nodded and agreed, although still not entirely pleased with doing everything in the dark.

They waited in the impala as the fading sun set, stealing glances at one another. Electricity seemed to buzz between them and Dean's nervous energy only heightened the mood. Castiel feels as if he should be more nervous, but Dean's own excitement is rubbing off on him.

Dean nods towards Castiel once the street is dark, and he gets out of the car, his jacket laden with all the necessary tools. He hands Cas a flashlight, grinning slightly. Castiel can feel his face slightly flushing; apparently Dean hadn't forgotten that he wasn't fond of the darkness. Castiel follows Dean, checking the driveway behind them periodically.

The old house is a few miles down from a run-down gas station, and it sits on several acres of abandoned property. The house is white, or it used to be, before time claimed her. The front steps are mostly caved in, and the remains of a wicker chair sit huddled on the porch. It doesn't take much imagination to imagine how the house might have looked back in its prime. Now it is used, worn, and harbors a feeling of ill-will.

Dean hops over the broken steps and extends a hand out to Castiel, pulling him up onto the decrepit porch. The water-worn wood groans beneath their steps as Dean struggles to pick the barely functioning lock on the door. Castiel's eyes travel to an old "for sale" sign sitting in the window, the dust obscuring the "e". Dean swears under his breath, still struggling with the lock.

His eyes meet Castiel's and he shrugs, "might as well kick it in then," he says. The door opens rather easily with the slight application of force. The inside is damp, and smells of mold and rust. Castiel is hit again with the reminder that this used to be home, as his eyes settle on a doll seated on the kitchen counter. Dean looks around, his own flashlight exploring behind corners and crevices of the house.

Dean looks at Cas, whispering quietly, "We need to find the cellar". Castiel nods, remembering the horrific story of the mother who locked her child up in the basement cellar, only to go mad and kill herself, leaving the child to starve. Castiel shivers at the thought, his mind again going back to the doll in the kitchen, and the other various signs that this was once a home.

The silence around them is like humid air, enveloping them as they both step lightly to avoid the creaking of the dead floors. The building was meant to be bulldozed, but contractors kept mysteriously disappearing and the project had been put on hold. The stairs creaked with every gust of wind that hit the home's outer walls, and the cracked windows reflected strips of light from the passing cars outside.

Castiel steps softly, his eyes scanning the hallway near the back of the house. A movement catches the corner of his eye and reaches out a hand to stop Dean. They are silent, communicating with their hands. The little girl is here, and she knows they are here too. They pick up their pace, finding the stairs to the cellar in what looks more like a kitchen pantry.

Dean goes in first, an iron crowbar in one hand and his flashlight in the other. Castiel keeps his flashlight trained forward as he shuts the door behind him. The cellar is even worse than the rest of the house. The walls look wet, as if the piping has exploded and is seeping down the walls, and the ground has puddles of what looks like water or blood. The stench alone is almost unbearable, and both men choke back their gagging reflex.

"Well isn't this place lovely," Dean grumbles as he steps over several planks of fallen wood. The ceiling is low, and Dean has to stoop several times to avoid hitting his head on old piping. Castiel catches a glimpse of movement again, mere seconds before a knife is hurtled at his head. He moves quickly to evade it, his body still expertly trained in speed and dexterity.

"Looks like we aren't alone now, Dean," he says, as a shriek fills the hollow silence that had surrounded them before.

"Ya, well, let's hurry before Pippi Longstockings comes back with more knives," Dean replies, shining his flashlight around looking for where the remains of the little girl.

Castiel nods in agreement, his skin prickling with the cool air swirling around them. He follows Dean further into the basement, riddled with old farm machinery and stacks of firewood strewn about. Another flash of movement alerts Dean that they aren't alone, and puts his flashlight in his mouth, while both hands wrap around his crowbar. Castiel digs in his bag for salt, pouring it quickly in a circle around the area they are standing.

They'd been over the plan a thousand times. The young girls bones were somewhere in the house, and they presumed the best place to start was the basement. The deaths that had occurred in the house thus far were mostly "accidents" involving cutlery, or due to structural incidents in which part of a ceiling caved in. Castiel couldn't help but think the latter part was true by no means of the ghost herself, his eyes flitting upwards at the molded and malformed ceiling.

Dean continues searching as Castiel covers his back, his eyes flicking back and forth in the small space. They had neared the back of the cellar, but still had nothing to tell them they were looking in the right spot. Dean swears under his breath some more as he trips over wood planks on the ground, knocking them over. He turns around just as the ghost materializes in front of Castiel, who doesn't hesitate to shoot her with rock salt, causing her to disappear immediately. She was small, she looked around age 9, with blonde hair in two messy braids. Castiel looks briefly at Dean, "She seems to flicker in and out, I don't know if she's strong enough to do any real damage".

Dean nods, and tells Cas that he had been thinking the same thing, but that they should still hurry. As they come to the back of the basement, Dean groans loudly.

"A damn crawlspace! Really!?" he says with exasperation. Castiel can't help but smile a little. He offers to go in for Dean instead, but Dean tells him no. He wrinkles his nose up in disgust as he unlocks the small hatch on the crawlspace door, and swings it wide open. The smell of death and decay hits them both and Dean outwardly gags slightly.

Castiel quickly helps boost him into the crawlspace, handing Dean his flashlight once he is able to crawl further inside. Castiel pours more salt outside the crawlspace entrance and he checks his gun again. The timing seemed to be about every 5 minutes, the girl would appear. She was easy enough to get rid of as long as she didn't have a weapon; that was the part that Cas had to be mindful of.

He listens as the house remains silent, only the slow dripping of water can be heard. The silence is broken by Dean swearing and some shuffling inside the crawlspace area.

"You ok?" Castiel asks, furrowing his brow and stepping closer to where Dean is.

"Ya I'm fine, Cas. Just some fucking rats. I hate rats," Dean answers angrily.

Before Castiel can laugh, the ghost materializes directly in front of him again, her arm outstretched with a knife. He shoots at her once, but his vision goes immediately hazy and he falls to the ground, grabbing his head as a piercing sound fills his ears. He can feel a pain in his shoulder, but he can only see the images in his mind, moving quickly. His eyes are shut but he sees snapshots that blur past him.

The bright light is around them, and Naomi's hand is in his chest. A flash of light. An image of Dean; injured and bleeding. The picture moves too quickly for Castiel to grasp and he realizes that he is holding his breath. He takes a breath, which seems to snap him back to the present where Dean is standing above him and yelling his name, his hand on Castiel's shoulder.

Castiel blinks several times before he notices the blood running down his arm and the pain that comes with it. His hearing comes back next, his eyes recognizing the words before he hears them.

"What the hell happened, Cas? Are you OK?"

Cas nods and stands up, one hand holding the spot on his right arm where a knife had apparently connected with his skin. Dean's eyes are frantic with worry, and his fingers are shaking slightly as he opens the backpack that had fallen from Castiel's shoulder onto the floor. His eyes barely leave Castiel, but he manages to deftly pull out their pack of salt and lighter fluid. Castiel's breath is ragged but his senses have all returned to him. He puts a hand out, motioning for Dean to give him the lighter. Dean obliges, quickly crawling halfway back into the crawl space to lay the salt and lighter fluid. Castiel can only deduce that Dean had been successful in finding the ghosts bones.

Dean crawls back out, the front of his shirt stained and dirty, small cuts sprinkling his hands and face. Castiel quickly flicks the push button on the lighter and throws it into the damp area.

"We waste a lot of lighters, Dean. Why don't we use matches?" he asks, grinning.

This seems to set things right again, the worry eases slightly from Dean's face and his eyebrows rise in surprised amusement.

"You have a point. I dunno, but let's get out of here and get you bandaged," he says as he throws an arm around Castiel's shoulders. They wait for the fire to go out, and a few more minutes to be sure the job is done, before they race up the stairs and back to the impala parked outside.

Dean has Cas sit on the edge of the trunk, while he cleans up his wound. It isn't much, not very deep, but Dean is thorough and kind about it. He slips one hand around Castiel's waist when he is done working, and pulls him in for a slow and gentle kiss. To Castiel, it feels like a celebratory kiss, but he can't help but feel like he let Dean down. And whatever images he saw in his mind, he can't seem to forget.

He pulls back from Dean slowly, his eyes wide and searching. In the darkness, the passing cars only briefly illuminate their faces. In the blinks of light, Castiel can see the worry creeping back into Dean's face, the creased brow and the slightl downward turn of his lips. Dean's eyes ask the question, as he searches Castiel's face, hoping he won't have to ask him, "What the hell happened back there?"


	15. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**: Lost

The drive back to the bunker is quiet for the most part. Castiel tries to ignore Dean's pursed lips and the annoyed way with which he flips on his music. Instead, Cas leans his head against his window and watches the scenery outside. The trees blur and road signs pass, while Castiel struggles to figure out the images in his mind.

His thoughts travel back to the two distinct flashes, the most discernible parts: Dean bloody on the floor, and the angel Naomi with her hand in his own chest. It doesn't take much to deduce that for some reason, she has something to do with his falling from grace, but the image of Dean bloodied and injured on the floor; it haunts his mind.

The silence must finally be too much for Dean, for he finally flicks off his music and looks at Castiel. His eyes are narrowed, and his mouth is turned downward. The engine of the impala roars as Dean's foot presses down on the pedal, his hand on the steering wheel is gripping it tight.

"What gives, Cas?"

Castiel lifts his head slowly from its resting spot against the cool window. His eyes meet Dean's very briefly, before Dean glances back at the road. Cas puts a hand to his chest, mindlessly as he remembers the brief flash in his mind of Naomi with her hand there. He shakes his head and puts his hand back into his lap. His hands overlap each other, each long finger intertwining as he squeezes his hands together tightly and looks downwards.

Dean reaches one hand over, his left hand taking over the steering wheel. He places his palm facing upward, gesturing for Cas to take his hand. Cas recognizes it as a sign of affection, but he can't stop the panicked feeling that is sinking in his gut, that he is more lost than he had previously thought. His eyes quickly flicker back to the passing scenery outside his window, and he exhales slowly, ignoring Dean's outstretched hand, hoping that Dean will believe he did not see it to begin with.

A moment passes before Dean pulls his hand away, which Castiel catches in his peripheral vision. Castiel can almost feel the anger emanating from Dean. He sneaks a glance, and his heart beats a step more quickly when he notices Dean's jaw is clenched tight. His eyebrows are drawn tightly together, and his lips are pursed as if they are trying to hold in some choice words. Cas can only assume that he doesn't want to hear the words raging around Dean's head right now.

He takes a deep breathe, and leans his head back against his headrest. The road stretches out in front of them, and Dean flicks his headlights on and off. He finally breaks the silence, his voice is neutral and cold, but Cas can tell there is a wave of uncertainty riding beneath.

"So, you mad at me for some reason now?" Dean asks.

Castiel shakes his head slowly. He isn't sure what he feels really. He feels upset, and lost, and confused by the images in his head. If he closes his eyes, he can see things clearer for just a moment before it blurs again. Something feels off, and a feeling of mistrust has settled into his bones. His old bones, carrying so much baggage, are burdened with new uncertainty.

"Dean, I've been having flashbacks"

Cas doesn't even need to look at Dean to feel the change in the air around them. He looks anyway, because despite his reservations, he likes to look at Dean. His eyes take in the way Dean's shoulders tense, his eyes squint as if to decipher some small meaning in the distance. Dean's breathing becomes shorter and his lips form a small "o" as he tries to find something to say. Castiel doesn't need to look at Dean to understand. Dean knows something that he doesn't want to share.

"Well, uh, Cas, try not to dwell on that too much, OK?" he says, stammering slightly. Cas knows by now that Dean is a terrible liar. He can put on a suit and pretend to be an FBI agent, or smooth talk his way through any confrontation…but Dean can't lie to Sam, and he can't lie to Cas. Maybe it was all the time Cas spent watching over Dean, when Dean knew it and when he didn't. He'd memorized the very wrinkle in Dean's forehead that gave him away and the stuttering when he told Sam he was fine even when he wasn't.

The sinking feeling in his stomach grows heavy like a stone, and Cas can only quietly reply "ok", before closing his eyes again to try to filter his thoughts through the running sieve of his mind. He can't help the seed of mistrust and doubt sitting low in his gut, forcing him to ask questions that he has been avoiding all along.

When they arrive back at the bunker, it is almost time for the sun to rise. Cas tries to ignore the jerky movements of Dean parking the car into the open spot on the street, or the way he slams his car door shut. He opens his mouth to speak, but can't find any words to say. Sympathies escape him, as he hangs his head low and follows Dean inside.

The bunker is dark, meaning Sam is in bed already. A dim light is left on in the kitchen, and Dean heads in there first. Castiel puts down their hunting bag, and listens for a moment as he hears Dean rummaging through the fridge. He hears the distinct clanking of glasses bottles, and rolls his eyes. He should have guessed. Dean didn't seem to drink nearly as often these days, but it was his safety net whenever things were bothering him.

Castiel feels a small tug in his heart, knowing that his foul mood and attitude were responsible for Dean's current anger, but he can't help but feel detached from it as well. He doesn't want to be comforting, to be comforted, or to be _there_. He wants to fly away, to retreat within himself, to be an angel again. Cas shakes his head, squandering that thought before it takes off and creates an empty void in his heart.

He throws one last quick glance towards the kitchen before deciding that Dean would probably be drinking on his own for a while, and there would be no sense in standing here. He takes the stairs lightly and quietly, pausing for a moment outside the open door to Dean's room. He hangs his head low as he realizes that he doesn't want to sleep in there, not tonight. Cas takes a deep breath and continues down the dark hallway towards the room that was his, but only in name.

The top of the dresser is covered in dust, and a small pile of dirty clothing is stacked in a corner. The bed is still made, like it had been for months. Cas sighs heavily and wraps his arms around his chest for a moment as he examines the dim light on the ceiling and the shadows it casts on the bare walls. For a brief moment, he considers retreating to the safety of Dean's room again, but he decides against this as he hears Dean's door slam in anger.

Cas sighs again and begins to remove his jacket ignoring the pain in his shoulder. He tosses his jacket over the lone chair in the corner and begins to remove the black shirt he was wearing, that is now unfortunately blood stained and extremely dirty. Cas wrinkles his nose slightly at he looks down at his jeans and notices the dirt stains from the damp old house they had been crawling around in. He considers showering, but he realizes he is too exhausted to even finish changing.

He throws his dirty clothing into the pile in the corner, and throws himself face first onto his bed. The room is cold, uninviting, and Cas quickly pulls his legs up to tuck them into the cool blankets. He tries to ignore the emptiness of the space beside him, pulling his arms tightly around his pillow. Within minutes, Cas finds himself drifting to sleep; somewhere between his nightmares and reality.


	16. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**: Perfect

Castiel wakes, his eyes opening wide with confusion; his breathing heavy and ragged. He can feel the perspiration on his lower back, and he wipes one hand to his cheek, wiping at the wetness from his tears. He blinks several times, remembering where he is. His eyes drift to the black notebook on the nightstand, and an old cell phone that he only uses to check the time.

The pillow is damp, and Castiel sighs, closing his eyes and slamming his head against his pillow. His arm reaches across the empty space beside him, and he ignores the longing in his chest. For a moment he allows himself the sweet savory memory of Dean's warm body lying in bed next to him. The way Dean would curl into him, snoring lightly into his pillow.

Cas shakes his head again, deciding to sit up. He hasn't slept in Dean's room for about a week, and they had been regarding each other with cool neutrality ever since the hunt they went on. Sam had been confused at first but he stayed out of it. Castiel couldn't help but miss Dean, but he wasn't ready to be open with him either. Not if Dean wouldn't be open with him in return.

Castiel grabs his black notebook from the table next to him and leans back in his bed. He runs a hand through his hair, already growing out from its last haircut. He flips open his notebook, his fingers caressing each page that is filled with his scribbled handwriting. Sometimes a page will contain one word only. Some pages are filled, with drawings and notes covering every corner. Cas frowns slightly as he reaches his most recent page.

His nightmares had been occurring regularly now, and he wrote them down meticulously in an attempt to decipher some meaning from them. Oftentimes, he found himself in the same white room, a sterile and clean location that he could only assume to be heaven. He couldn't move, which was the worst part. It would come in quick flashes, Naomi's hand in his chest and her face so close to his that they were almost touching. That was the image he saw most often, with terrifying clarity, and horrifying pain.

Castiel could understand that…what he couldn't understand were the moments before or after. Through flashes, he saw the Winchesters talking to Naomi, as if they were working together. This he would see in pieces, as he stood motionless, suspended. Other times he would see Dean thrown across the room. His body crumpled against a wall.

The worst was when he was in the room and he could move. He was unable to control himself, and these flashes came in the most confusing pieces. He could swear he plunged a knife deep into Dean's chest, but it was never clear enough to make out. Castiel was alone each time in this flashback. This was the worst by far, and perhaps why he couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with Dean lately. Not when he kept dreaming about killing him.

Castiel rubs his chin absently, his soft hands running over the stubble that had grown over the last few days. He contemplates writing down his dreams from last night, but he decides against it. He throws his book down on his bed in annoyance. He hadn't been able to see anything besides the same few flashbacks, which didn't help anything. He'd thought about talking to Sam, but it felt like a betrayal somehow, as if he should be asking Dean. After all, whatever relationship they were in currently, Cas was probably still supposed to put his confidence in Dean.

Cas yawns and stands up, grabbing his phone from the nightstand, flipping it open quickly. It is already well into the day, which doesn't surprise him. He'd been sleeping longer, trying to fall back into his dreams to figure out the mess of his past. Castiel looks forlornly over at his pile of dirty clothing and hopes that he still has some clean clothing in his dresser.

He ambles over, his bare legs cold, as he digs through the small wooden dresser. He finds some fresh boxers to replace the ones he is currently wearing, and throws on a pair of jeans. The weather is getting colder out, so he puts on a long-sleeved baseball tee with blue sleeves, and a dark grey zip-up hoodie. Cas looks at the hoodie for a moment, wondering if it is Sam's, but he shrugs and decides to wear it anyway.

When he comes downstairs, Sam is the only one in the living area. Cas looks around quietly, hoping to avoid Dean. Sam raises his eyebrows with a question in his eyes, "Dean isn't here, don't worry". Cas lets out a breath, continues down the stairs, and throws himself into a chair across from Sam. He lets out an exasperated sigh and puts his head down on the table.

"Anything you wanna talk about, Cas?" Sam asks as he flips open his phone.

Cas looks up but shakes his head no. Sam is texting, and Cas can only assume it's the librarian girl that Dean told him about. Dean had gone to the library himself to check this girl out, make sure she was alright for Sammy, and reported everything back to Cas that night. They had been lying in bed together watching a rerun of Scrubs, while Dean sat in front of him, resting his laptop on his legs. It wasn't the easiest way to watch television, but Cas loved how Dean fit against him, and how he could wrap his arms around Dean, his hands resting on his stomach. Castiel blinks a couple times, ignoring the yearning in his heart.

Sam stands up, packing his laptop into his bag. He looks at Cas, smiling slightly.

"You sure you're fine?" he asks, raising his eyebrows again. Cas says "yes", and forces a small smile as he asks what Sam is up to.

"Actually, I'm going to go do some work at the library now but uh, I think Emma…library girl, and I are going to the bar tonight. You should come!"

Cas groans and throws Sam a skeptical look but he can't bring himself to say no, not when Sam is looking at him so expectantly and excited. He must really like this girl if he's actually doing something normal with her, and inviting friends to meet her.

Cas sighs, running his hands through his hair, "Fine. I'll go", he responds, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He didn't know when Sam had begun to feel like his own younger brother, but he could relate with Dean about one thing; it was damn hard to say no to Sam sometimes.

* * *

The bar is crowded, and Cas isn't sure what to think of it. Dean has been gone all day on a trip to visit Garth, so it is just Cas, Sam, and Emma crowding around a small table in the corner of the bar. The building smells of alcohol and sweat, and the loud music makes it hard to hear. Cas regrets the time he had told Sam that a third wheel adds stability, because now he understands what a third wheel is. It was unfortunate that it was just the three of them, which really meant that Cas got to watch Sam flirt all night.

Sam bought them all a round of drinks, doing his best to include Cas. The gesture was nice, and Cas quickly finished his drink before offering to get the next round.

"Sure Cas, but we're still working on ours", Sam says with a laugh as he casually drapes his arm across Emma's shoulders. Cas can't help but smile; watching Sam look so innocent and free. He couldn't help but like Emma too, who was witty and quick to poke fun at Sam and who also made an effort to include Cas. For a minute, Cas misses Dean, but he quickly pushes away the thought as he stands up and starts towards the bar.

The bar is crowded, but Cas doesn't mind waiting his turn. He drums his fingers along the old and slightly sticky wooden railing, finally catching the eye of a young bartender. She smiles brightly, all white teeth and dark hair flowing down her back. She leans over, her shirt two sizes too small, and asks Cas what he'd like to order.

For a minute, his face flushes as he realizes that he has no idea what to drink. He quickly orders 3 drinks of anything for his group, and tries to ignore the strange look that the bartender gives him. When she asks him what kind, he blanks, his mouth frozen open slightly. Thankfully she tells him she'll go with something everyone likes and flashes her bright smile at him again.

"You here alone, hun?" She asks, placing three small glasses in front of him and pouring vodka into each, alcohol spilling over the side of each glass.

Cas shakes his head, and points to his friends in the corner of the bar. She smiles at this, lowering her eyelashes and leaning forwards against the bar railing.

"I'll tell ya what, if you do these three shots here in under a minute, the next three are on me for you and your friends".

Cas doesn't see the harm in this, and he didn't mind not having to use the money that the Winchester's gave him. Besides that, he'd certainly had more to drink before than three small glass cups. He nods at her, giving her a small smile. He reaches for the first glass and downs it easily, following suit with the next two. He slams the third one on the counter and grins at the bartender.

"So you're not a lightweight", she says with a smirk as she fills the three glasses again. Cas doesn't want to tell her that he doesn't understand what that means, so he just shrugs his shoulders. He smiles and thanks her as he grabs the 3 glasses in his hands and heads back to his table.

"Dude, you didn't need to get us shots!", Sam says laughing. Cas looks at him, confused, turning his head slightly to the side and squinting.

"The bartender said this is what everyone likes".

Sam laughs again and runs his hand through his hair, shrugging. He looks at Emma and grins as he hands her one of the glasses. Cas follows suit, picking up his own. Sam holds up his drink and clinks it against Cas's glass.

"To family and friends" he says, but his eyes are on Emma alone. Cas quickly drinks his, welcoming the warmness that is spreading over his body. His face feels hot, and his hands tingle slightly, but it isn't the worst feeling. He'd been drunk once before, but it wasn't really anything like this. He isn't even sure he is drunk yet but he laughs at the thought.

Sam shoots Cas a look that says "give us privacy", so Cas obliges. He grabs his glass and heads back over to the bar. The building is still fairly busy, but he finds a seat rather quickly. His eyes glance at a couple to his right who are whispering and kissing each other every so often. For a moment he misses Dean again, but he can't seem to wipe the silly grin off his face. The bartender wanders over to him again, learning forwards and arching her back.

Cas tries to look anywhere but her chest, looking away embarrassed. His eyes meet hers and he can feel his face flush red at her knowing smile. She pours a new drink, and slides it towards Cas.

"I haven't seen you in here before", she says, taking a sip from her own drink behind the counter.

Cas nods, sipping slowly on his new drink. This one is familiar, it smells like Dean, so he can only assume it is whiskey. It burns on the way down, so he drinks slowly. Getting drunk had not been his intention at all to begin with. The bartender leans forwards against the bar again, placing her hand on Castiel's arm and smiling.

"Are you new in town?"

"Cas?"

Castiel turns around quickly, nearly falling off his chair. He drops one foot onto the ground from his chair, hoping to steady himself. His eyes travel up from the floor, drinking in the image in front of him; dark denim, with a fitted shirt, and damp hair that is sticking out in various directions, green eyes wide in surprise. Cas can't help but smile, even if Dean does look mildly angry.

Cas steps forwards but he is dizzy from standing up abruptly, and rather ungracefully sort of slams his body against Dean. Dean had been standing with his arms open at his sides, confused and angry, but now his arms close around Cas, catching him to keep him from falling.

Dean waves at Sam angrily, "Thanks for taking care of him, Sam".

Dean turns his gaze back on Castiel, his mouth in a straight line. Cas grins again, and cocks his head to the side. He feels hot, and his cheeks are burning with embarrassment, or from the alcohol; possibly from both. He smiles at Dean, his eyes closed, as he wraps his hands around Dean's neck.

Dean pulls away, his eyes searching Castiel's face.

"How many drinks did you have man? And why was that bartender chick all over you?"

Castiel can only laugh and smile innocently, opening his eyes wide as he pulls Dean closer to him. His reservations were lost, probably somewhere between his third and fourth shot. Right now, he can't begin to fathom why he hasn't spent every waking moment with his hands around Dean. Cas miles widely, and ignores the strange look that Dean gives him.

"Alright Cas, let's go outside to get some air," Dean says, stepping back from Castiel, but keeping one arm wrapped tightly around his waist. Castiel watches the ground intently, trying to keep from tripping. The wood floor of the bar seems uneven, and he tries not to stumble, leaning into Dean's side.

Once they are outside the bar, Dean lets go of Cas; turning around and looking around quietly. Cas watches as he runs a hand through his hair, as he exhales and the cold air leaves his lips like smoke. When Deans turn around, Cas is surprised to see him looking so sad. After a week of staying away, of wondering how to fix things, or if he should try, Cas doesn't need to wonder anymore. The look of defeat in Dean's face is enough to bring him to his knees.

Cas reaches out one shaky hand and grabs Dean's, pulling him close. A look of pain crosses Dean's face, his mouth pouting slightly as he tries to think of something to say. Castiel reaches up, wraps an arm around Dean's neck and pulls him into a passionate kiss.

"I'm sorry, I'm stupid, I lov-", Cas stammers, his words slurring as he tries to think of everything he has wanted to say, before Dean cuts him off.

"You know, you're just like me", Dean says seriously before pulling back from their embrace. He looks at Cas, licking his lips. Castiel knows it isn't the right time for it, but he wants to be with Dean again, to have everything be like it was. He wants to run his hands through Dean's hair, caress his stomach, hold his hands, and kiss his lips. He wants to steal Dean's clean shirts, stay up late watching bad television, and to wake up with no circulation in his arm because Dean had slept on it all night. Cas wants to hear Dean's pleadingly say his name as they kiss, and for his eyes to flutter as their bare chests touch in the late hours of the night.

Cas grins wickedly as he pushes Dean against the nearby wall. His cold hands find Dean's wrists and pin them against the wall as his eyes drink in the sight of Dean whose eyes are open wide in surprise. Cas leaves a trail of kisses along Dean's neck, sucking harder on each one as small moans escape Dean's throat. Cas presses his body close to Dean's, close enough to feel his pounding heartbeat.

"Cas", Dean says, nearly moaning his name. Cas loves this, as he continues to pin Dean against the wall. He lets go of one of Dean's hands, which immediately finds itself trailing up Castiel's shirt. Cas runs his hand through Dean's damp hair, pulling it slightly as he slams his mouth against Dean's. His hand trails down Dean's back slowly, his fingers light against Dean's skin, hitting all the spots that make Dean shiver. Cas can feel Dean's body reacting beneath his, and he feels braver than usual.

"Can we go back home?" Cas asks, trying not to sound too innocent. A small smile tugs at his lips as he leans forward and kisses Dean on the neck again, causing Dean to inhale sharply. Castiel looks up through his eyelashes, the dim light casting beautiful shadows across Dean's perfect features. Dean's eyes slant, as his mind catches up with Castiel's implied words. For the first time in a week, a chuckle escapes him.

Dean wraps an arm around Castiel's waist again, and pulls him in for a soft kiss, and he promptly pulls away and places another, more gently on Cas's forehead.

"Whatever you want, Cas", Dean says with a grin as he helps Cas over to the car; one hand in Cas's back pocket of his jeans.


	17. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**: We Intertwined

They are barely back to the bunker before their lips are clashing together, and Castiel is running his hands up Dean's shirt. They run into chairs as they make their way through the bunker. Castiel stumbles often, holding tightly onto Dean's hand as the trip up the stairs together. They are desperate, clinging to each other, fulfilling a need they have both had.

Castiel knows his head is still muddled from the alcohol, but he doesn't care at this point. He'd spent a week avoiding Dean and now that they were so close, he didn't want to let go. His fingers intertwine in Dean's hair, pulling his head back tightly, exposing his neck, where Castiel lays several rough kisses. Castiel pushes Dean backwards towards the bed, slamming the door behind him.

In moments, Castiel is on the bed, pinning Dean beneath him. He leans forward, his bangs covering his vision as he sucks on Dean's bottom lip, biting down gently. Dean groans and wraps his arms around Castiel's back, his arms pushing Castiel tightly against him. Castiel pulls away for a moment as he removes his shirt, throwing it across the room.

Dean laughs and shakes his head, muttering something about Cas always making a mess. Deftly he moves out from under Castiel briefly to remove his own shirt. Castiel inhales sharply as their chests press together, his own warm skin prickling at Dean's cooler skin.

Castiel leans forward, planting rough kisses along Dean's collarbone, while Dean closes his eyes and tilts his head further backwards into the pillow, arching his hips upwards. Castiel's own jeans tug tight, as he trails his lips down Dean's torso. His own lips are numb, either from the alcohol or from the constant movement across Dean's skin and their frantic kisses. Each time his lips press against Dean's skin, he can feel an electric jolt that runs down to the tip of his swollen cock.

Dean pulls Castiel closer to him, pulling him in for a gentle kiss, his tongue slowly entering Castiel's mouth and then pulling away softly. Castiel had been full of frantic passion, a fire in his stomach that threatened to consume him, but now his heart is in his head, beating wildly. He smiles, hoping he hasn't lost his liquid courage. Dean grins back and winks at Castiel.

With a deep breath, Castiel lays heavy kisses down Dean's chest again. He pauses momentary, letting his lips cover Dean's nipple, his tongue running ragged around the tip. Castiel smiles slightly as he hears Dean inhale sharply and tilt his hips further upwards into Castiel's hips. Castiel continues downwards, stopping to flick his tongue in and out of Dean's bully button, slowly laying kisses along Dean's hipbones. He periodically presses his hips against Dean, rhythmically at first.

Castiel places one hand on Dean's hip, the pad of his thumb softly caressing the gentle skin and sharp bone. He can't help but think to himself that he absolutely adores touching Dean's hips. Castiel looks up at Dean for a moment, a sheepish grin across his face. He looks down again, his fingers slowly unbuttoning Dean's pants.

Dean groans again, mumbling "Cas" quietly. This makes Castiel feel braver, as he finishes unbuttoning Dean's pants and pulls them down slightly. He looks back up at Dean for a moment, taking in every inch of his body. The light illuminates the muscles on Dean's torso, the gentle curvature of the skin around his collarbones, and the gentle smile that was slowly spreading across Dean's face.

"Are you sure you know what to do, Cas?" Dean jokes, lifting his head up to grin devilishly at Castiel, the lights bouncing off of his cheekbones and eyes.

Castiel widens his eyes, faking offense, before he laughs and admits that he feels silly. His hands are holding tightly to Dean's jeans, nervously wondering how to proceed.

"I know how this works…theoretically," he says, looking at Dean before adding in "how hard can it be?" with a deadpan look.

This only makes Dean burst out in laughter, before he pulls Castiel in for a deep kiss. Their lips interlock and this time it is Dean who is the one biting down on Castiel's lips so hard he can taste a slight tinge of saltiness which he doesn't mind, as he drags his tongue across his lips slowly while looking at Dean.

"I'll show you, then you take over", Dean says, motioning for Castiel to pull his pants down further.

Castiel obliges; his eyes wide with curiosity and lust. He rolls off of Dean, resting his body along Dean's right side. No stranger to the male anatomy, Castiel finds himself surprised to find himself aroused by Dean's own anatomy, despite it being so similar to his own.

Dean wraps his hand around his own cock, gently but firmly. He pumps slowly at first, biting his lip as he looks at Cas for a moment, his eyes trailing down Castiel's naked torso and disheveled jeans.

"Go slow at first," he instructs, as he continues thrusting his cock gently through his fingers, the tip red and swollen.

Castiel watches with fascination, as Dean's body quivers unexpectedly, and Dean begins to move his hand faster, stroking the length of his penis. Dean looks over at Castiel again, and grabs his hand, placing it on his dick. Castiel moves slowly at first, as instructed, glancing over at Dean's face for signs of pleasure.

Dean's hand remains wrapped around the outside of Castiel's for a moment, the two of them moving in motion, the teacher and the student. Dean groans slightly, and arches his back upwards again, thrusting in a faster motion now. Castiel takes the hint, his large hands moving up and down Dean's shaft, warming his hands and sending an electric pulse through him again.

Dean removes his hand from Castiel's with a sharp intake of breathe, pulling Castiel closer to him. Castiel watches him as his eyes close and his mouth opens slightly, his breathing labored and heavy. Again, Castiel can feel the twinge of his own swollen penis as his eyes linger on the small beads of sweat along Dean's collarbone and the way his chest lifts and falls with each inhale and exhale.

Unable to stop himself, he pulls himself onto Dean, keeping his rhythmic pulse pumping Dean's swollen cock. Castiel kisses Dean, pushing their mouths together, and their bare chests.

"Cas," Dean moans between frantic kisses, his penis thrusting more urgently and quickly in Castiel's hand. Castiel reciprocates, moaning Dean's name in between breaths, his own vision hazy and drunk from this pleasurable feeling.

Castiel's knees dig into the mattress, the springs making light groans beneath their movement, as Castiel jerks Dean off with more and more fervor. Dean's breathing is so heavy now; his eyes shut tightly as his own hands run along Castiel's bare back and hold him securely against his body.

The moment is so close, Castiel can tell by the way Dean's body tenses and quivers, his lips parted open again and trembling slightly with anticipation. Castiel's hand is still pumping wildly; their bodies intertwined and wrapping around each other. Castiel can feels his own sense of elation drawing near as he closes his eyes and lets himself stop thinking for a moment, lost in a wave of pleasure that could knock him into last year.

Dean lets out a loud moan, ejaculating over his own stomach and partially onto Castiel's, poised above him. Castiel slides off Dean, rolling onto his back and breathing heavily, his eyes still closed. A moment passes before Castiel can feel a tender kiss on his jaw and then his lips. He smiles, opening his eyes slowly.

Dean's eyes are dark in the dim light, his pupils large and covering most of his green irises. A wide smile plays across his lips, before he kisses Castiel once more, gently, and rolls onto his back beside Castiel.

"That was good, Cas," he says with a pleasurable sigh, "your first time right?"

"Yes, and I enjoyed it," Castiel responds with a deep breath, allowing his heart race to slow.

Dean tilts his head sideways slightly, smirking. "If this is what happens when you drink, let's get you drunk more often" he jokes before going quiet suddenly. Castiel turns onto his side, confused for a moment in the change in Dean's demeanor.

"I don't mean that Cas, I mean this is fun, but please don't think we can only do this when you have been drinking," Dean says quietly.

Castiel looks at Dean, wrapping his mind around Dean's words. Most of the effects of his alcohol consumption seem to have disappeared, so he wonders if he did something wrong.

"Did I do something to-"

"No, no, Cas, you were so good…nothing like that"

Castiel thinks again, before he realizes Dean's concern. He leans his head in towards Dean and wraps his arms around his chest, ignoring the mess they both have across their bare bodies. "I promise you Dean, I won't turn into the Castiel you saw in the future".

Dean smiles, and Castiel can still see the worry behind his green eyes, but his body is relaxed again. Dean looks down at his own chest and then back at Castiel.

"We are disgusting," he says with a laugh as he sits up. Castiel can't help but agree. Castiel ventures to be daring one more time this night, as he slants his eyes closed a bit and lowers his voice slightly. "Perhaps we should both shower. Together, I mean."

Dean responds with a deep, throaty laugh, as he throws his head back slightly, which of course pleases Castiel.

"Man, Cas, your innocence is key here" he says as he pulls Castiel in for a rough and passionate kiss again.


	18. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**: Stigmatized

Castiel is the first to wake, his arms wrapped protectively around Dean, his nose buried in Dean's hair. The light filters in underneath the door, a sliver of light flows across the room and illuminates the dust in the air. Castiel breathes in deeply, inhaling the clean smell of Dean's hair. He leans in, planting a gentle kiss on the top of Dean's head, and slowly removes his arm from underneath Dean's sleeping body.

Dean groans slightly and wraps his arms tighter around his pillow, but he doesn't stir. Castiel smiles, despite a small headache. Watching Dean sleeping would never get old; as the years would fade from his face and the lines etched into his skin would disappear, if only for a moment.

Castiel opens the door slowly, quietly, careful of every sound the floor makes as he moves across it. As each foot hits the ground, the cold floor creaks beneath him. Castiel closes the door to his room softly and sits on his bed, grabbing his notebook as he pulls his knees up to his chin. He flips through the first few pages, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he reads over his initial impressions of the intimacy between him and Dean.

On some pages, there is only a date, and quickly jotted words. They are like bookmarks, setting alight a spark of a memory in Castiel's mind. There were dark pages, filled with designs that filled his memory. Sometimes he worried that he might forget certain things, important things. He had spent an entire night scribbling down all the sigils that he could think of, just in case. Just in case being human meant forgetting everything from when he was an angel.

Even more important, had been to write about when he first met Dean. To write down every detail he could remember from the first time he laid his eyes upon the shining soul, the one that shone brighter than all others. He couldn't see it anymore, not in the traditional way. He sometimes missed it, but what he had now was so much better, so the trade was not unfair. The memory sticks like glue, every moment he spent with Dean, even the painful ones. These are the things that Castiel writes into the margins of each page, the poetry of his heart and memory. Memories that are too precious to risk losing.

The worst pages are the ones filled with Castiel's nightmares; the ones that haunt him as he holds dear all that he cares about. He turns to a blank page now, his pen in his mouth as he closes his eyes, bringing his nightmares to rest in the front of his mind. He had dreamt again last night, in quick flashbacks. The most disturbing of all was always the various images of Dean, dying in his arms. These were the most frequently occurring, and each time he failed to stop himself from killing Dean.

Castiel chews down harder on his pen, his brow furrowed. The dream last night had been the usual. In snippets, he had seen himself kill Dean; quick and effectively, with a stab to the chest. Sometimes he would twist his neck, sometimes he would slit his throat, there were many combinations of ways that he saw himself killing the man that in his waking hours, he would give anything to save. His next least favorite scene was when he found himself immobilized; looking into Naomi's eyes, with her hand plunged into his chest; past his vessel and into his true form.

This was rare, and usually he would wake screaming at this part in his dreams, his fingers clutching wildly at his chest. Last night he had seen something new however, and didn't find himself waking in a cold sweat after watching Naomi plunge her hand into him and wrap her hands around his grace. Last night he had seen past Naomi's cold blue eyes and towards the Winchesters, both of them, watching with horrified faces.

Castiel grabs his pen out of his mouth and scratches the hair at the back of his neck before pushing his hair away from his forehead and inhaling deeply. He closes his eyes for a moment, holding the memory still in his mind, and opens his eyes again as his pen flies across the page. He fills a page, then another. As he puts his pen back in his mouth to absently mull over his own thoughts, he hears a gentle knock on his door.

"Hmm?" he murmurs around the pen in his mouth, his mind still swimming with questions.

The door opens slowly, making sure to hear no objection before entering. Castiel looks up and a small smile crosses his face as he takes in Dean's half opened eyes and lazy smile between yawns. He is still shirtless and his pajama bottoms are loosely tied around his waist. Castiel can't help but allow his eyes to travel up Dean's body, even if it means his face begins to feel hot and flushed. The memory of last night doesn't seem to be impaired by his alcohol consumption, and Dean's sloppy grin tells him that Dean hasn't forgotten it either.

Dean is leaning against the doorway, running his hand through his hair as he opens his eyes wider in a questioning gesture. Castiel nods, closing his black notebook and setting it beside him on the bed. Dean closes the door behind him, and fits himself behind Castiel, wrapping his arms around him and burying his head in Castiel's neck as he stifles another yawn.

"I woke up and you were gone," Dean says gently, as the cool air from his breathe sends shivers up Castiel's spine.

Castiel leans backwards slightly into Dean's arms, "sorry, I didn't intent to worry you".

Dean's eyelashes brush gently against the back of Castiel's neck and Castiel closes his eyes for a moment, enjoying the comfort of Dean's embrace.

"Were you writing about your nightmares?" Dean asks gently, removing one arm from Castiel and picking up the notebook from the bedspread.

Castiel nods slowly. "Did I disturb you last night?"

Dean gently kisses the back of Castiel's head and chuckles softly. "Cas, it isn't a big deal. I'm no stranger to nightmares. I just wish you weren't having them." He pauses for a moment, his hand still holding the notebook.

"Does it help to write in here?"

Castiel inhales and exhales slowly, wondering if the conversation is going where he has been longing for it to go. "It seems to, but I still can't really make sense of my nightmares." Castiel can feel Dean tense up behind him as he sets the journal back onto the bed.

Dean leans back slightly, but not before placing a kiss on the back of Castiel's neck. He swings his legs around to the side of the bed again, placing his elbows on his knees. Castiel mimics the position, turning his body towards Dean and placing both feet on the ground. Dean shoots a tentative smile at Castiel before running his hand through his hair, displacing it at all angles. He opens his mouth but then quickly shuts it again, rethinking what he had to say.

"Cas, this isn't really easy to say. I want to tell you everything, but I want to keep you safe too." Dean says, looking up at Castiel quickly, before lowering his head again and looking at his lap. He holds his hands together, nervously clenching and unclenching his fingers together. Castiel nods, gently urging, "Go on".

His heart is pounding slightly, but he tries to remain calm. He has been waiting for what seems like an eternity, to find out what happened when he was under Naomi's control. They had told him that much, and that he "wasn't to be blamed" for anything, but it didn't matter. He has needed to hear the truth, and the knot in his stomach has only grown tighter with each passing day. Castiel inhales and exhales slowly again, trying to keep himself calm.

Dean begins slowly at first, every word punctuated by a pause and a nervous glance towards Castiel's face. Once he starts though, it seems as if the words come faster and faster, falling out of Dean's mouth like flowing water that cannot be stopped. He doesn't pause to take a breath, rushing towards a metaphorical finish line.

By the time Dean is done, Castiel's mind is swimming with the information, trying to make sense of it all. "Wait, so Kevin is ok then?" Castiel says, settling on the first piece of good news in Dean's story.

Dean exhales, happy that Castiel doesn't seem to be angry yet. "Ya, I mean man was it a pain at first, because she made him tell her the last demon tablet trial and then wiped his memory." Dean laughs slightly before continuing, "So when we showed up at his house, he had no idea who we were and it was a mess." Dean's head sags slightly as he looks up at Castiel. "We were a little lost at that point, with no prophet to tell us the next trial and you had flown off with Samandriel's body…we were stuck."

Castiel nods, remembering pieces of what occurred with his brother, but not all of it was clear. "I understand, Dean. You had no other choice but to work with Naomi."

"We didn't trust her Cas, not one bit. We hated it, but we also wanted to find out about you…" Dean trails off.

"What I don't understand Dean, is that the last trial could not have been completed without killing me. Even without my grace, I am still very much alive."

"When we got there, she wouldn't tell us what the trial even was. I knew though, the second I saw you strung up around that pole. She plunged her hand into you and it was one of the worst things I have ever seen man."

Castiel's eyes soften and he places his hand on Dean's thigh, squeezing it gently, but his own mind has drafted back to his painful memory. His own screams that echoed across the world, as the very core of his being was torn out. A question pulls at his mind, but Castiel ignores it, not wanting to push his luck.

"She told us that the final trial was to sacrifice an angel's grace and life, and she gave Sam the knife to kill you with." Dean chuckles slightly, focusing his eyes on the corner of the room. "I guess she trusted us too much. Sammy fought her, and then I fought her, but in the end Sam killed her by some miracle or something."

Castiel's mind struggles to fill in the blanks, the small parts of the story that Dean is leaving untold. Of course the first though he has is that both boys were most likely extremely damaged in the fight.

"I still don't understand how the trial was completed, Dean."

Dean laughs again, this time with a smirk on his face. "Well she said that we had to sacrifice an angel's grace and life…but she didn't say it had to be the same angel."

"And you took that chance?!" Castiel exclaimed; his eyes wide and confused, the tactician in his mind is screaming that it was the dumbest decision they could have made.

"Hey man, we weren't gonna kill you, no matter what." Dean's voice softens slightly as he looks at Castiel directly for the first time since they began their conversation. "She said you were nothing without your grace, and I just…I knew it wasn't true."

Castiel can't keep the grin from spreading across his face as he looks in wonder at the man who had an unwavering faith in him, the man with little faith, but all of it was placed in him, Cas. A moment passes between them before Castiel is taking Dean's face in his hands and kissing him gently, first across the mouth and then all over. He kisses Dean's forehead, gently and chastely. He kisses the tip of Dean's nose which makes him recoil and begin to complain about being treated like a child. Castiel then kisses Dean's lips again, biting on Dean's lower lip more urgently.

When Castiel pulls away, Dean is smiling and his shoulders are more relaxed. The wrinkles in the corners of his eyes reach out, as his smile spreads further.

"God, you drive me insane, Cas" Dean mutters as he pulls Castiel's body to him and falls back onto the bed, and pressing his lips to Castiel's neck, intending to leave marks this time.


	19. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**: Galapagos

The last week has passed in relative ease. After talking to Dean, a large weight seems to have been lifted from everyone's shoulders, including Sam. Castiel is sitting in the living area, absently watching as Dean cleans and takes apart their guns. He had told Castiel to watch and learn, but after the first two guns, Castiel grew bored.

He turns his attention to Sam, who is texting on his phone in between writing a paper for his class. Castiel grins at Sam, not needing to ask who he keeps texting with. His own black notebook is open on the table in front of him, but for once, Castiel doesn't have much to write. He flips through the pages, stopping briefly to look at a few drawings he had done of Dean…not that Dean would ever find out.

Dean catches Castiel's eye and winks, before saying suggestively, "You shouldn't chew on your pen Cas, it's gonna explode all over you".

Castiel opens his eyes in surprise, flicking his eyes between Sam and back to Dean, to make sure that Sam hadn't caught that. He sticks his tongue out at Dean, being sure to keep his pen in his mouth. It wasn't the most attractive gesture, he was sure, but he'd seen Dean and Sam do it often enough by now…it looked like something appropriate for the moment.

Castiel keeps his eyes on Dean, as he absently still flips through his notebook. Dean's hands are strong and precise, fluid with each motion. Castiel can't help but admire his hands as he works, quickly and efficiently. Dean's lips are turned upwards, gently, as if calmed by the repetitive task. Castiel is broken from his silent admiration by his own stomach growling, and he looks down, scowling at his body. It was always betraying him!

Dean laughs, bringing his eyes to meet Castiel's again, and he stands up, stretching his arms above his head. Castiel's eyes trace the smooth lines of Dean's torso, stopping at the hint of skin peeking out above his hips. Dean smirks in response, knowing exactly what he is doing. He wanders around behind Castiel's chair and leans in close, his face pressed against Castiel's ear.

With one finger, he points at the page that Castiel was stopped at in his notebook. "Drawing me while I sleep, Cas?" he whispers, seductively, breathing heavily into Castiel's ear. Castiel jumps slightly, slamming his teeth down on the pen still in his mouth and shutting his notebook with a snap.

Seconds later, in what is an unfortunate accident of coincidence, Castiel can taste the metallic liquid in his mouth from the pen he had been chewing on. He throws the pen onto the table as he stands up quickly, putting his hands on Dean's hips to push him back from him. Castiel shoots Dean a scowl before muttering, "This is your fault, Dean", and stomping towards the bathroom, ignoring the roaring laughter coming from Dean and the quieter chuckle from Sam.

Castiel runs the water, allowing his it to fill in his hands before bringing it to his mouth. He attempts to run his mouth under the sink, which doesn't quite work out. He sighs in frustration as he had managed to get his shirt wet as well somehow during this endeavor.

He pauses for a moment in front of the mirror, eyeing himself, which was rare. He opens his mouth, checking to make sure that the dark ink was gone and had left no trace. Castiel smiles slightly, at his own reflection, and for the first time in a while he can recognize a bit of himself. His eyes are blue, but a darker shade, which he admits looks much better without the heavy bags underneath. Over the last week, those had begun to disappear. Castiel runs a hand through his dark hair, noticing its length, not for the first time, and the way the ends curled slightly behind his ears and on the nape of his neck. He didn't put my stock into appearances, but he had been wondering what drew Dean to him.

A smile passes his lips again as he remembers the last few nights, and all the new ways he learned Dean's body. Which if he had to admit, he also liked how Dean learned his body too. Castiel had seen a side of humanity that was so wholly terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, and he felt drunk on the sensation of it all. He knew that part of it was due to his willing partner, whose eyes would fill with such wonder and amusement at every new milestone between them.

Castiel shakes his head, reminding himself to not get lost in a daydream. He washes his mouth out with some of Dean's minted mouthwash, hoping it would remove the metallic taste that still clung to the insides of his mouth. As payback, Castiel figures he can take one of Dean's shirts to replace his which is now wet. Castiel didn't mind pulling his own weight, but doing laundry was his most hated chore, and if he could get out of washing some of his clothing…well he was happy to do so. He also didn't want to admit that he loved wearing Dean's clothing, even now, when he had a dresser full of his own.

As Castiel walks across the hallway, he removes his own wet t-shirt, and waits until he is in Dean's room before he throws it into Dean's laundry pile. He smirks slightly, opening Dean's drawer, digging his hand around for his favorite shirt. By favorite shirt, it is the one that he steals whenever he has the chance because it fits him perfectly and he knows Dean loves it on him. A wide grin crosses his face as he finds what he is looking for.

Castiel pulls the dark grey shirt on over his head, looking at the screen-printed lettering that has begun to fall off. "Pink Floyd" it reads, and by now, Castiel actually understands that reference…having spent enough time driving around with Dean to be at least slightly "educated". The shirt is a bit small on Dean now, having shrunk in the wash repeatedly. Castiel is shorter, not by much, but enough that this shirt fits him snuggly but it doesn't ride up when he walks. Although the last time Dean wore it, Castiel didn't complain either.

As an afterthought, Castiel remembers he needs to grab a new pen, before heading back downstairs. He opens the top drawer of Dean's desk and exhales, annoyed, not finding a single pen. His fingers hover over the next drawer, a slight shiver going down his spine. His fingers wrap underneath the handle, slowly, because for some reason he is now apprehensive. As he pulls it open, his heart falls.

It doesn't take more than a second for it to register. He could feel the pull as soon as his hands touched the desk drawer handle, and he can't even see it now but he can _feel_ it. Castiel wants to slam the drawer shut, pretend he didn't see, and walk back downstairs in Dean's t-shirt. Dean would bug him about stealing his shirts, and Castiel would laugh and Sam would try to ignore them being so blatantly obvious. Dean would later pin Castiel to the bedroom door and tell him how much he loved when Cas wore his clothing. Everything would go on the way it had been, and it would be fine.

But Castiel can't do that, and his hands are shaking as he reaches out, even when he tells himself to stop. It's tucked away to the very back of the drawer, behind junk and things that Dean would never need, wrapped in a sock and concealed in a vial…is Castiel's grace.

Castiel doesn't need to see it to know, he can feel it inside of him, feel his own former essence contained. He reaches for it anyway, because it is his, and this changes everything. He pulls the old sock out, dropping the vial into his hands, feeling its pulsating warmth in his hand.

He doesn't even realize that he is crying until a drop falls into his hand, still outstretched and holding the vial. For the first time in a long time, Castiel feels lost again. His mind wanders back to the story Dean told him, and he feels the anger flame up in the back of heart, forcing its way forwards. He knew Dean had left something out, but he trusted him. Castiel's fingers clench around the bottle, as his hands shake and tears fall silently.

"Hey Cas, what's taking so long?" Dean interrupts, lazily wrapping his arms around Castiel's midsection and pulling him close.

Castiel flinches, stiffens, and steps away from Dean, turning to face him.

"What's wrong? Did you-" he stops, as his eyes travel from Castiel to the open drawer. He notices the way Castiel's hand is clenched tight around something and his own world seems to come crashing down as realization washes over him.

"You had this, you knew…_the whole time_" Castiel begins, his voice wavering as he opens his fist to show Dean the vial of his own angelic grace.

"Cas, you need to understand…let me explain"

"No, Dean," Castiel finds his resolve, or gives in to his anger, which is more likely. "There is nothing _to_ explain. You lied to me. Even when you knew that being human, all of this…I had no _choice_! You told me to trust you, and I did," He spits outs, his eyes going cold.

Dean reaches out to grab Castiel's hand but Castiel pulls back, and so Dean lets his own arm fall to his side in defeat.

"Cas, please" he says quietly, pleading. "Let me just explain".

"Dean, I don't want to hear it. I'm done," Castiel says, barely knowing what that even means. The words were falling out of his mouth before he had a chance to think them through. Bitterly, he thinks that it is such a human thing, and that it was obviously what Dean wanted, so he would give it to him; unabated thoughts and half-meant insults.

Castiel takes two steps towards the door, pausing only to hear Dean say one more thing as the door closes behind him.

"So you'll leave me too".


	20. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**: Broken

Castiel sits with his head in his hands, trying to stop the tears from coming. For once, he is glad that he had the sense to grab a coat on his way out the door. He had left quickly, choosing to ignore what he heard Dean say. Without a word, he had left the bunker, careful to avoid the confused glare he was sure Sam was giving him. Maybe he hadn't realized, but he had been yelling at Dean…so much for keeping control of his emotions.

Now, the cold air bites at his nose and his fingertips. His ears are cold, and Castiel can only pull his collar up and tug his jacket tighter around him. His right hand is still clenching the vial of his grace, holding it tight. He isn't sure what to do with it right now. On one hand, he could do what Anna had done, that day so many years ago.

For the first time in a long time, his mind wanders to her, to her story. How she had been so eager to help him, to push him into rebelling. He hadn't been kind to her, he knows that now, and he knew it then. He was different, he was changing but he was still so far from where he is now. He says her name out loud, wishing she was here now, to tell him what to do once again. He thinks about why she fell, why she tore out her own grace, and why it was her _choice_.

The choice she made had seemed insane, when it happened. Castiel could not fathom why she had done it. He had mourned her; the loss of her as a sister, and what she represented for him. His mind travels back to a moment, one that burns him now in the pit of his stomach, as he had watched her kiss Dean. He has kept that memory at bay for some time now, but the image fills his mind and he can taste blood in his mouth from biting his cheeks. He doesn't want to fill pain at the thought of someone else with Dean. In fact, he doesn't want to be thinking of Dean at all right now.

That's the problem though isn't it; he thinks as he hangs his head lower, twisting his fingers through his hair in frustration. He doesn't want to think of Dean, how he lied to him and kept something, kept _this_ from him. The worst part is, he can't even begin to think of what to do about it all unless he thinks about Dean, and so it is a vicious cycle.

The moment his mind thinks of Dean, he thinks of how he is wearing Dean's shirt, and the freckles on Dean's nose, and the mouthwash he used that was Dean's. Every bit of him is entangled with Dean, and even now, the words fall gently from his lips…_Dean_.

Castiel squeezes his eyes shut, feeling the rawness of his tears leaving the wind to chill his cheeks. He doesn't want to think of what to do, but he has to. He can't fathom going back to the bunker, to pretending that everything is alright. Part of him is so mad at Dean, that he wants to hurt Dean; spit lies in his face, tell him how he doesn't matter to him anymore. He wants Dean to feel hurt too, but then his heart softens and he hates himself for even thinking that. Part of him wants to embrace Dean, tell him it doesn't matter at all because he'd finally found somewhere he belonged and that the road there didn't matter to him.

But it did. It _does_ matter.

Castiel spends the night on that park bench, wrapping his mind around his predicament. His hands are numb as he finally tucks away the vial inside of his coat pocket. He still doesn't know what to do with it. He hadn't thought the decision would be this hard, because as much as he wanted to have a choice…the reality of it stung like the bitter cold. He has a chance to see his family again, to be what he was, full of power and purpose. There is little doubt in his mind though, what that choice would mean for his new-found family…what it would mean for the Winchesters….for Dean.

Castiel is laying on his back now, one hand over his eyes to shield them as the sun comes up. His coat lays over him, as he tries to keep his body warm. He closes his eyes for a moment, allowing the suns warmth to cover him, reminding him of what it felt like to fly. He breathes out, slowly, trying to keep himself calm, as he has been doing all night.

A rustling nearby startles him, and he sits up abruptly, his coat falling to the ground. He doesn't need to look past the shoes, to know who it is.

"Cas."

His voice comes out small, reserved, and very unlike Dean. Castiel fights his previous feelings to hurl insults at Dean, so he says nothing, but he stands slowly. Dean takes several steps forwards but stops himself from reaching out.

"I was so worried, Cas. I drove around and I just…I don't know what to say. I'm just glad you're safe."

Castiel looks up slowly, ignoring the pull he feels in his bones that is pulling him to fall into Dean's arms. He ignores the fact that Dean is in the same clothing he was wearing last night; the faded jeans that Castiel loves and a dark red button-down shirt over a black undershirt. He ignores that the red in Dean's shirt brings out the green in his eyes or that they are extremely red-rimmed and tired. Castiel presumes that his eyes look similar.

"I don't know what to tell you, Dean," he finally says, taking extra time to ensure that his words come out clear and devoid of emotion. Particularly when it feels like a tornado is tearing through his insides each time his eyes meet Dean's, and he is trying not to be pulled in every direction at once.

"Cas, tell me you'll come home, that we can sort this out."

"I don't think that is possible."

"What do you mean, you don't think it's possible?!" Dean says, losing the softness to his voice. He steps closer to Castiel, so close that Castiel can see the gold specks in his green eyes and the freckles across his nose. Castiel tries to ignore these things, the familiarities that cut him too close to his heart. He needs to be impassive, because he can't stand to look at Dean without feeling a knife twisting in his stomach, and he can't look at Dean without wanting to succumb to every desire; to kiss, to hold, to forgive.

"I don't think…I know that I can't go back to the way things were. Not now." Castiel makes the effort to not say it, to not say his name; the name the falls from his lips like familiar silk. He can't say it now, because he's afraid he will break. He hadn't realized his decision until he saw Dean, and then he knew. He knew his choice.

"So what, man? You're gonna angel-up, leave us? Leave me?"

"I don't know…I…I just know that I can't stay here."

"So then this isn't about the angel thing? Because you're losing me here, Cas. I get it, if you want to angel-up and go back to heaven. It sucks, but I get it because I know. You told me it before man, being an angel is belonging to a much better club and all. Humanity sucks," he spits out bitterly.

"Dean". Dammit.

"No, Cas. Don't. Do you remember what I told you, years ago? When you had fucked up so bad, and _refused_ to help us, to help _me_. Broken or not, I told you I'd rather have you!"

"Of course I remember. I know…but things are different. Things are different between us," Castiel says softly, bracing himself for what comes next. It is one of two things; both of which are sure to break his heart.

"Don't make me say it, man. Come on. Not now, not here," Dean says, his voice deep and husky, which Castiel isn't sure if he is meaning to sound threatening or seductive. Castiel can't think about that, not now.

"I don't _want_ you to say anything."

"No, Cas, you do. Because you obviously need to hear it before you'll come home and try to make things right".

"Dean, please," Castiel says, barely a whisper now, as he tries to steady himself. He knows it; he doesn't need Dean to say it. It will only break his heart to hear it; make it that much more impossible to leave.

"I need you, Cas, ok? Angel or human, or whatever. I don't care as long as it is you."

"Stop,"

"No, Cas. I won't, because dammit, I love you, ok?"

Which is how Castiel finds himself with his lips pressed to Dean's, his eyes squeezed tight and his fists wrapped around the lapels of Dean's jacket. He doesn't want to hear the words; he wanted to stop them from being said entirely. Despite all of his own attempts at holding back, he had failed. He knows what this will do to Dean, but he can't help but selfishly run his lips over Dean's, just one more time. Dean is obviously surprised but Castiel steps away before Dean has a chance to wrap his arms around Castiel.

"I made a choice, Dean," he says, not daring to bring his eyes up from the ground. He can't even see through the tears in his eyes, but he knows that he can't give this bit of hope to Dean.

"And it's not me, is it, Cas?"

Castiel shakes his head slowly, his fingers grasping tightly at the sides of his jeans. He still doesn't bring his eyes up as he watches Dean's shoes get further and further away until they disappear. Castiel isn't sure who is more broken right now, as he sinks to his knees and presses his palms into the cool earth and lets his tears fall. He chokes back the words he wants to scream into the heavens. He can't forgive Dean right now, not for this. He wants to tell Dean that he can't forgive him, can't be _with_ him. That it would kill him to be with him and not _with_ him.

It isn't fair, and he knows that what he did is cruel, but he can't see an alternative. He still has no idea if he wants to remain a human. It seems to fit him well, he thinks bitterly, particularly the broken part; the flawed portion. Castiel has never felt so alone, not in his millennia of life. As if heaven itself looks down on him, it begins to rain, and he chokes out a bitter sob as his fingers curl around the red and yellow leaves beneath him.

His eyes look towards the heavens, and for the first time in a long time, Castiel prays.


	21. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**: The Call

Dean walks back to his car, making sure to put one foot in front of the other.

"Don't you dare turn around," he tells himself as he grits his teeth. He knows if he turns around, he will see the man who didn't choose him. Even after everything, Dean can't help but feel pissed off at Castiel. His fingers form into fists at his side, and his fists don't unclench even while he drives home. He holds himself together; he is proud of himself for that.

Until he walks in, and Sammy is there, looking at him with his concerned eyes and his mouth forming a straight line; that's when he knows he isn't ok.

"Dean, where's Cas? What happened?"

Dean simply shakes his head, not even sure if he can feel anything at the moment. He wants to tell Sam that he messed up, that he should have listened to Sam weeks…hell, months ago. He wants to say he's sorry that he drove Cas away, and that he should have known better. Instead, he slides his jacket from his shoulders and throws it across a chair, and takes a deep breathe. "You can do this," he tells himself.

"He's gone, Sammy. Can we drop it?"

Sam stops for a moment; his brows furrowed before he shakes his head a little and stands up. "You can't just say, drop it, man. Cas is my friend too, and whatever happened, we can't just let him go off on his own."

"I mean it, Sam. I'm not talking about this right now," Dean growls as he continues up the stairs to the bathroom. He just needs to make it there, to get away and think a little bit. He can't break down in front of Sam. Hell, he hadn't even broken down when their dad died. He may have had some issues for a while, but it wasn't like this. This is a new kind of pain and for a man more familiar with pain than just about anyone…this says a lot.

Sam seems to take the hint, as his gaze softens and he nods slightly. He smiles gently at Dean, before saying, "I'm here if you wanna talk, Dean. I know we don't usually talk about this stuff. But it's Cas…I'm gonna worry about him too."

"Ya, well, you shouldn't. Once he's an angel again, he won't need our help," Dean replies bitterly as he finishes climbing the stairs.

He takes one last deep breath as he steps into the bathroom. As he closes the door behind him, he leans against it for support, his knees buckling slightly beneath him. His mind wanders back to Castiel, and how he had said the damn words. The thing he never says to anyone ever; not even Sammy. He meant them, he knows that. He's known for a while now. It was in the way he felt his heart tighten as soon as he saw Cas in the bar being hit on by some bar skank. It was in the way he felt lighter than air whenever their fingers brushed, even when it was in passing, as they cooked dinner together and maneuvered around the kitchen as if they were two halves of the same whole.

He had known simply because for the first time in forever, he was happy. He didn't hate himself as much, not unless he looked at that desk and remembered what he was hiding. But he was good at repressing and not dealing with things, and that was just one of those things he put off. Sam had warned him, he told him, "Dean, you can't keep this secret from Cas. He's gonna find out and I think he should hear it from you first."

Dean shakes his head, feeling pitiful. Even his younger brother knows how to be a better person than him; how to treat someone you love. No wonder Cas had left him, he thinks bitterly. He doesn't think he can even stand to look at himself in the mirror right now, so of course Cas feels that way too. He would barely look at him then, in the park, even when they were saying whatever version of goodbye that had been.

Dean turns on the shower, scalding hot, in hopes that it would cleanse some of his guilt away.

* * *

After showering, Dean does the only thing he can think of; he goes to bed. He crawls under the sheets, and piles both pillows under his head, rather than the typical one. His stomach grumbles loudly, but he ignores it. He doesn't think he can handle another worried look from Sam, and he certainly doesn't feel like cooking right now; not when the kitchen will seem so large and empty, much like his bedroom now.

Dean shuts his eyes tight, counting backwards from 100, hoping to fall into some version of sleep. It works, but only briefly. He finds himself waking often, one arm stretched out onto the side that Cas normally slept on. He hadn't even realized that Castiel had his own side of the bed. The loneliness pierces another part of his heart, and he feels like he is suffocating. Slowly, Dean begins to count back from 100 again. He does this two times until he drifts off somewhere around thirty.

When he wakes, Dean rolls over drowsily and for a moment is concerned to see Cas's side is empty. He swings his head around his room, before dropping back onto his pillows remembering the previous day. He sighs heavily as he sits up, swinging his feet to the side of the bed. He has a throbbing pain in his neck, which he supposes is from sleeping on two pillows.

"Dammit," he says out loud, to no one in particular as he runs his hands through his hair, clutching at the hair at the nape of his neck.

He dresses quickly, ignoring the fact that Cas took his favorite shirt, and is most likely still wearing a pair of Dean's jeans as well. He throws on a black t-shirt and the first pair of jeans he finds in his dresser. His bare feet are cold on the hardwood floor, but Dean doesn't care right now. He needs to get out of the room where thoughts of Cas keep infiltrating his mind.

As he heads into the kitchen, Dean sighs heavily. He quickly grabs a piece of bread and retreats to the main living area. Sam is awake, judging by the empty coffee mug next to his open laptop, but he isn't here. Dean assumes that he must be out for a jog, or whatever weird things his brother enjoys that no human should enjoy. He looks around and realizes that he has no idea what to do. The feeling sinks into his stomach and settles there like a lead weight. He hadn't realized what a staple Cas had become in his life; how he had filtered like sand into every crack and changed everything. The realization of that hurts almost as much as thinking of Cas out there, alone, so Dean tries to think of anything else.

He decides to work on his car, and maybe get some groceries, or practice shooting. Dean wants to do anything but sit in the bunker and be reminded of Castiel.

* * *

Two weeks pass silently, and Dean has further mastered the art of avoidance. He spends less time around Sam, and more time doing his own thing. If he thinks about it now, he's not quite sure what that is. Every day seems to pass slowly and more boring than the previous one. He hunts sometimes, just short, one or two day trips. It seems to help; at least it gets his mind focused on something other than Castiel.

He knows he has been sulking, and that he can only ignore Sam's persistent questions for so long. He just doesn't know what to tell Sam now. So he puts it off, and he goes about his days even if it feels like he is just going through the motions. He's not sure what else to do, because there's a void now and he hadn't known that the fissure would be this wide.

It is barely 9pm, but Dean heads to his room anyway, ignoring Sam's worried look. The one he gets when his eyebrows draw together and form a crease in his forehead, and he tilts his head to the side slightly. Dean can't stand to see it, and it is the look Sam has given him every morning, and every time he sees Dean with a drink in his hand, and every time he is about to say the word "Cas" but stops himself.

He can't stand it tonight, for some reason, everything feels heavier. Charlie had visited yesterday, and despite her best attempts, he still had to force a smile at everything she said. She was on her way to a convention, and said they were right on her way, so why not stop. Dean didn't need to be a genius to know that Sam had put her up to this. She was subtle, or as subtle as Charlie ever is. Before she left, she'd told him to call her if he ever needed to talk.

Dean shakes his head as he pulls out his phone. He contemplates texting her, but even then, he isn't sure what he would say. His finger hovers over the C button and he looks at the name above hers in the contact list.

"Cas," he whispers quietly to himself. He hasn't said it in two weeks, and he chokes back what he hopes wasn't a sob. Dean Winchester doesn't cry, and almost laughs, because he can't really lie that well to himself. He shakes his head and tosses his phone lightly onto his nightstand. He pulls out the bottle of whiskey he's had under his bed, which is now nearly half empty. He leans back onto his bed, closing his eyes as he takes a drink. It won't take much, just enough to ensure he sleeps through the night. He's been having trouble with that too.

* * *

It is nearly 2am when Dean's phone buzzes, vibrating on the hard wood of his nightstand. He opens his eyes slowly, his head still heavy from the alcohol. With one eye open, he slams his hand onto his nightstand, looking for his phone, grumbling. He flips open the phone and his heart stops. _One new text message._

_Cas__**_**_

**I miss you**.

Dean shakes his head, wondering if he'd had too much alcohol because that was the last text he expected to see. He feels a small balloon of hope fill inside him, and he hates himself for it; for wanting what he doesn't deserve. His hands are shaking slightly as he reads the message over and over again. A small part of him wants to respond, but a much larger part wants to throw his phone across the room. He wants to say "what gives you the right to say that now?" He has a million things he wants to say, but he can't think of how to phrase any of it, so he sits there reading this same message over and over for what seems like hours. His phone buzzes two more times.

_Cas__

**Ignore that**.

_Cas__

**I'm sorry if I woke you.**

This time Dean does throw his phone across the room, and as it skitters across the floor, he throws his head back against his pillow. He hates Cas for doing this, for making him feel this way, and he hates that he taught Cas how to properly use a phone and how to drive the impala (or what would pass for driving anyway). He hates that he taught Cas how to cook, how to shave, and how to love. Most of all though, Dean hates himself. He hates himself for lying, for being selfish, and for failing Cas like he always did. He closes his eyes and tries to count backwards from one thousand. He doesn't suspect he will fall asleep easily, and his fingers ache to put his phone back together and dial a number that he shouldn't have memorized but he does. He had already said his goodbye.


	22. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**: Love Will Come Through

Dean opens his eyes slowly, his gaze sliding to the empty space beside him on the bed, and he stretches. He purposely ignores his phone, lying on his desk, still in several pieces from two nights earlier. He checks his watch and groans. It is barely 6am and he is already awake. He runs his fingers absently over his chin, feeling the harsh growth of stubble. He is about to go back to bed, figuring he has nothing better to do, when his door slams open.

"Get dressed, we need to leave. NOW"

Dean has barely opened his mouth to speak before Sam is already gone. For once, he doesn't ask questions. He knows that look, the one Sam gets when he is about to explode from nervous energy and the harsh tone that means he is afraid and upset. _Something is wrong_. A million thoughts cross through Dean's mind and he shakes his head to force himself to stop before he thinks about Cas again. _It's not Cas_.

He throws on a worn pair of jeans, a dark green Henley over the black t-shirt he is already in, and his tan jacket that is thrown across the back of his desk chair. As an afterthought, he grabs his phone from his desk, the pieces of it anyway, and shoves them into his coat pocket. He can put that back together in the car.

Dean takes the stairs two at a time, as his eyes take in Sam standing over his laptop. Sam looks up, a scowl across his face.

"What, you don't check your phone these days, Dean?" His voice is flat and accusatory.

Dean fumbles around in his pocket, his hands grazing over the battery to his phone, the phone itself, and the back cover to it. _Shit_.

"What the hell is going on, Sam?"

Sam snaps his laptop shut, throwing it in a bag and quickly zipping the bag. Dean looks around and sees that Sam already has their hunting gear gathered. His heart sinks, and he doesn't want to think about it, doesn't want to know what he already knows.

"_Cas_."

Sam doesn't look up or at Dean, he simply throws the bags over his shoulders and strides out, calling behind him, "I'll explain in the car". Dean slides his feet into his boots, nothing bothering to tie them. He can do that in the car. He notices briefly, that his hands are shaking, so he balls them into fists and continues out to the car, quickly. He contemplates giving Sam the keys, telling him to drive, but he can't. No, he needs to feel the hum of the impala engine, and to have his fingers grip the steering will just to ground him. This needs to not be about Cas, not be about anyone…just a hunt.

Dean puts his keys in the ignition, and looks at Sam, expectantly. "Where to?"

"Pontiac….Illinois."

* * *

They are a ways down the road before Dean can even ask. He focuses on the road ahead of him; on his speed which is inching a bit too high even for his own standards, and he keeps his eyes peeled for any police vehicles. He takes a deep breath before asking.

"It's Cas, right?"

Sam exhales loudly, his chest puffing out and relaxing. "What the hell, man? I assume he tried texting you first. All I know is he sent me this text this morning." Sam holds his phone up for Dean to read.

_Cas__

**Need help. Angels.**

_Dammit_. Dean's heart sinks to the pit of his stomach and he tries to keep himself from hyperventilating. He knows they have about a 10 hour drive ahead of them, 9 if he can drive fast. His mind moves a million miles a minute, thinking of Cas. Now that Sam's said it, he can't think of anything else. He keeps one hand on the steering wheel and pulls out the pieces of his phone. He shoves them into Sam's lap, wordless. Sam puts it together, turning it on as he finishes, and Dean winces as he hears the familiar buzzing of missed calls or messages.

"I traced his phone, Dean. Don't worry, we'll get to him".

Dean shakes his head, holding his hand out to look at his missed messages. He suddenly feels embarrassed, not really wanting Sam to see whatever messages Cas had sent him. Maybe Cas sent more over the past two days, maybe he said how much he hated Dean. How Dean had ruined his life. Dean can't let Sam see that, no way. He knows it's stupid to be so secretive, especially when Cas is in danger, but he needs to read these himself.

He flips his phone open, looking at the blinking cursor. Three missed messages. No missed calls.

_Cas__

**Don't hate me Dean.**

_Cas__

**Dean. I'm sorry.**

_Cas__

**I messed up again. I won't bother you anymore.**

"Stupid son-of-a-bitch," Dean grumbles, wishing that their circumstances were different and that he could feel just a little mad at Cas right now, but he can't because he's worried sick and not even the slow growl of the impala can soothe him.

"What'd he say?"

"Nothing, Sammy."

"Don't be an idiot, Dean. If it can help us find out what's going on, we can get to him"

"It can't. Drop it."

Dean can't help the malice that enters his voice, he knows it is because he is so worried right now, he could scream. He wants to punch something, punch someone. Cas isn't that far down on the punching list right now, but his stomach turns and acid burns in his throat when he thinks of anyone harming him. Even know, his knuckles are white on the steering wheel and his breathe hitches in his throat as he tries to take a few breathes to calm down.

"Sorry, Sammy. Just worried…is all. I, uh…Cas's texts are from almost two nights ago, it's nothing important," he says as he forces a fake smile at Sam.

He doesn't say another word until theyare in Springfield, IL filling up on gas. He lets Sam do the honors this time, as he sits on the curb outside the station. He runs his hands through his hair, pulling at it until it sticks up at all angles; the way Cas used to run his hands through his hair he thinks forlornly. His heart clenches and again, for a moment, he finds it hard to breathe as his mind fills with images of Castiel injured or worse. Dean closes his eyes and mutters a prayer, even though he knows Cas can't hear it, he says it anyway.

"Please stay safe, Cas. We're coming."

* * *

They pull into Pontiac, Illinois around 4pm, and Dean is thankful for at least it still being light out. It is a small town, one they've been to before. Dean recalls passing a prison last time they drove through, looking for Castiel's vessel, Jimmy Novak. Thankfully they seem in a nicer part of the town now, and he slows down, looking at Sam for further directions.

Sam's eyebrows are knit together tightly as he looks at the GPS on his phone. "I think he's at the police station…"

For a fleeting moment, Dean imagines Castiel getting arrested for doing something stupid like sleeping on a park bench all night, and he can't help but hope that is the case here. Of course he knows it's not. When was anything that simple?

They park the impala down the street from the police station and decide to wait for the sun to set a bit. They aren't entirely sure what they are up against, so they brought it all. They'd packed loaded guns with salt rounds, holy water, Ruby's knife, and another angel blade that they had picked up during the last year. Dean doesn't need to say it, but it feels like a trap, and he knows Sam is thinking it too. This town was chosen for a reason. They don't move, hiding behind some shrubbery while they scope out the location.

It doesn't take long for them to realize that the place is less busy than it should be; way less busy. The parking lot is empty, not even a single patrol car in sight. This is worrisome, and it screams "angels". Dean and Sam hadn't known what heaven would do after they rescued Cas, so they'd been meticulous with their angel warding and keeping Cas under the radar. Dean mentally kicks himself again for not being more insistent with Cas about staying, or at least demanded that he protect himself…that is, if he doesn't already have his powers back by now.

They decide on a plan of action, a simple one but it usually proved to be effective. They would pick the locks to the door they'd seen at the back of the building while they were scoping it out. All window shades were drawn, which worked in their favor considering it made it easier for them to sneak around under the setting sun. Dean would pick the lock, Sam would cover him. Easy. Whatever was inside, they would deal with.

* * *

It works, efficiently enough. Dean has the lock picked quickly and he motions for Sam to follow him. Sam has his gun drawn and Dean is clutching an angel blade tightly in his hand again. As they step inside, they realize they had made a stupid mistake. This isn't the back entrance to the precinct, this is a loading dock. There should be ambulances and squad cars parked here, but the entire area is empty save for one figure crumpled on the ground.

Before Dean has a chance to run to him, Sam grabs his arm, holding him back. His eyes flicker back and forth between two ramps leading to two separate doors. His mind is reeling, working overtime to make up for Dean's apparent lack of foresight.

Two figures emerge, one from each door. "I got left," is all Sam grumbles quietly to Dean.

Cas stirs on the floor, lifting his head slowly. Dean tries not to let his anger overwhelm him, because it is the fastest way to get himself killed. He ignores the blood all over Cas, and their eyes meet.

"No," is all Cas manages to get out before crumpling back onto the floor.

The rest happens fairly quickly, as most fights do. One moment Dean is looking at Cas, his eyes going wide, and the next an angel appears in front of him thrusting her knife towards him. He doesn't need to look over to Sam to know he is fighting too. The moment he takes to register her presence, he allows her to get a blow on him. Dean curses and licks at the blood trailing down from his lip. He is ready for the second one, and he catches her arm, twisting it behind her back.

She is much stronger though, twisting and throwing him off easily. Her dark hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail, and her hazel eyes hold a fire that causes Dean to worry, if only briefly.

"Nothing personal, sweetheart," he says as he evades her again and catches her in the stomach with a kick.

"You know nothing, Dean Winchester," she says, and he is thrown off for a moment by her soft voice, lilting and flowing over her words. She had reminded him of Naomi at first, which had fueled his fight, but now he isn't sure and her words cause a small panic in him. His pause gives her an opening, which she takes. Her hands close around his throat tightly, and he is too weak to fight back. He kicks his legs, struggling as his vision hazes around him. He slides his eyes over to Cas, still lifeless on the floor. Just as he thinks he is about to lose consciousness, she drops him and a bright light shines from her, followed by a scream.

From the floor, Dean looks up, grateful. Sam is beat up, and his chest is heaving with each breathe he takes. Dean can only assume he's got a few broken ribs. Sam extends an arm and helps Dean to his feet.

"Friggin angels, man," Dean mutters under his breath as he runs towards Castiel.

He drops to his knees, ignoring the slam of hard pavement against his bones and wraps an arm around Castiel, pulling him up. Castiel's hands are tied behind his back, and it looks like his ankles are as well. Dean will deal with those later, right now he just needs to make sure Cas is even alive. Sam does the same, flipping out his phone to dial 911 but he quickly puts it away with a huff of "no signal".

"Cas, hey, wake up," he says, lifting his head to meet his. He takes in the gash above Castiel's left eye, his split lip, and the bruises forming on both his cheekbones, most likely from some good punches. Dried blood makes a trail from underneath his nose and it looks like one of his ears has the same. "Oh god," Dean murmurs as Castiel's eyes flicker open slowly.

"Dean, you need to go," Castiel says with hitched breath, as if each word is a new wound opening back up.

"God, Cas, I thought-"

"Go, now, Dean it's a –"

"Hello, boys."

Dean's eyes snap up, and Sam is on his feet in an instant. "Crowley," they growl in unison.

"Gotta say, nice job taking care of the angels for me."

"What do you want?" Dean says; his eyes locked on the demon in front of him and his mind running a mile a minute trying to figure out _how_. They completed the trials!

"Well see, last I heard, you were trying to shut down hell. Did you think I would _let_ you do that?"

Dean looks towards Sam who shrugs his shoulders the tiniest bit, but Dean gets the message. _No clue_.

Crowley laughs, and snaps his fingers, at which two more demons enter the loading dock, but they keep their distance. "Right now, you are both wondering 'how' and 'why' and, 'I thought we closed hell' but let me catch you both up…you didn't!"

"What are you talking about, Crowley? Spit it out, I hate monologues," Dean says, aware of Castiel slumped over again at his feet. The wound in his head is still bleeding, and he hopes that by now, Cas hasn't lost too much blood.

"First, I have some conditions," he says as he pulls out a revolver with a grin. "See, our friend Cas here, he's still mortal."

Dean looks at Cas, feeling the same twinge of guilt that he'd been experiencing since they last met. He glares back at Crowley. "And?"

Crowley laughs, "Rocky here isn't too smart is he, Bullwinkle. Can you catch him up, Moose?"

Sam looks over at Dean, his eyes worried. "He can shoot Cas with a regular gun and kill him, Dean," he says, and Dean can practically see how he would roll his eyes if this weren't such a dire situation.

"So what do you want?" Sam asks, keeping his gun trained on Crowley.

"You're gonna let my boys tie you up, and then you're gonna listen and tell me what I need to know."

A moment passes between Dean and Sam, and they both know they have no other choice right now. Cas looks like he's on the verge of death, and they really do need to find out how demons are still walking the earth after they shut the gates of hell. Dean grits his teeth, and throws down his knife as Sam does the same with his gun after removing the ammunition.

* * *

After their hands are zip-tied behind their backs, and all their weapons efficiently removed, Crowley seems satisfied. With a nod, the other two (presumably demons) step back and keep guns trained on each Winchester. Cas is still slumped over, apparently passed out by now.

"What do you want from us, Crowley?" Dean asks, hoping to hurry this along. The sooner they were in some other situation, put away or locked somewhere, the sooner they could try to escape and get some help for Cas.

"I need you to help me find something."

"Yeah, ok, what?" Dean says, his voice filling with irritation.

"Our fallen angel's grace," he says flatly, his eyes narrowing at Dean.

"What the hell, Crowley? Why and what for?" Sam says, giving Dean a look that tells him to keep his mouth shut. The last they knew, Cas had it and if Crowley is still looking for it, then Cas hid it somewhere.

"An angel's grace holds a lot of power, boys. And this angel, excuse me, former angel, owes me. In case you've all forgotten, he doesn't make for a good business partner and it is time to PAY UP!" Crowley yells, his face turning red with anger, "I'm done being patient."

"Well beats me," Dean says with a sly grin. For once, the truth is easiest here.

"Don't play games with me," Crowley spits out.

"How about you tell us somethin' then huh? Why the hell are you walkin' the Earth instead of locked away in the pit?"

At this, a grin spreads across Crowley's face. "You two still never figured it out? I'd be lying if I didn't say I was surprised."

Dean shoots a confused look at Sam, who frowns and shrugs his shoulders in response. Dean mentally kicks himself for not looking into the trial thing more, but really, they didn't have a choice. Kevin was no use and they'd accepted the blessing of Sam being ok because it _seemed_ to fit. Maybe too nicely. Nothing was that nice…Dean narrows his eyes at Crowley.

"You boys never thought about what locking away hell would do, did you? It is always about doing the "right thing" with you Winchesters. For once, you can thank me."

"So we didn't close hell?" Sam asks slowly, processing the information slowly, his mind mapping out the implications. "Why am I fine then?"

"Ah, that. You see, I had some _help_ in stopping you boys. It seems heaven and hell could align for once on something. You have a heavy spell on you keeping the sickness from the trials at bay. We searched for it extensively…you could say, we went back into history, far back" Crowley says with a glint in his eye.

"Help? You mean Naomi?" Dean spits out bitterly, remembering what she had done to Cas. "Isn't it wrong for a demon to get in bed with an angel?" Dean says, glaring at Crowley as he feels his blood begin to boil.

"Worked for you didn't it?" Crowley retorts with a laugh.

"You son-of-a-bitch."

"Son of a witch, you mean. And watch your mouth, squirrel, or I'll have that spell removed from Moose so fast he'll be in a worse state than your dear Cas here."

Sam finally interjects, knowing that for now, they have to play along. "We don't know where Cas's grace is, we can't help you."

Crowley motions towards the two demons who have had guns trained on the Winchesters. "Lock them up until they remember or the angel does, whoever breaks first." He shifts his attention back to Dean before saying, "My money's on the angel though". Dean feels a hit to the back of the head and his vision goes out of focus as he hits the ground.

* * *

"Dean," he hears distantly, and he runs a hand through his hair. His head is pounding, and his vision seems to be cloudy still. He hears his name again, and he realizes quickly that he is on the ground and his memories hit him hard. Dean snaps his eyes open and looks at Sam, who is standing up and trying to quietly get his attention.

He takes stock of their surroundings, quickly checking to make sure that Sam is physically fine, and then to assess how they will get out. They are in separate cells, and Dean curses the clever location Crowley picked, or maybe the angels...he's not sure who is screwing who over right now. Dean is on the ground now, but he needs to be standing. His legs are zip-tied together, as well as his hands behind his back. He stands, awkwardly, almost falling over multiple times.

"Ah, zip-ties, Sammy. My favorite," he says with a smirk.

"Yeah, Dean…I know," he says as he holds his free hands up before hiding them behind his back again, "I'm out, but I don't have anything to pick the lock with".

Dean smirks at him again as he leans forward slightly and slams his wrists against his tailbone. He closes his eyes as the pain sears up his back and he does it one more time, effectively breaking his constraints. He wriggles his free fingers at Sam, and then rubs his red wrists lightly before reaching down to pull his pant leg up.

"See, Sammy, an old friend taught me the importance of bobby-pins," at which Sam rolls his eyes; Dean has several pins hooked to the top of his boots. He removes them quickly and checks the outside of the cell for any demons who might be standing guard.

"They check about every 15 minutes, and I'm pretty sure they stored our stuff behind that desk across the room. I was just waking up as they threw me in here and I'm pretty sure that's what I saw," Sam says, absently rubbing the back of his head where he too had been hit with the back of a rifle.

Dean starts to work on the cell door, which is thankfully old and not locked with a mechanical lock. He pushes away thoughts of Castiel, promising himself to stay calm and to get them out of this situation. One step at time, he reminds himself. He hears the final click of the lock, and the door swings open slightly.

"5 minutes," Sam says, keeping his eyes open along both sides of the corridor. There are a few desks in the main area to their right, and he figures their stuff might be there. Crowley doesn't seem as interested in them as in Cas.

Dean hands over his bobby pins to Sam and sneaks out of his cell as quietly as he can, even with his ankles tied together. It is a slow process and he struggles not to curse under his breath. Every sense is heightened as he listens intently for the sound of footsteps approaching. He works as quickly as he can, checking underneath each desk until he finds what he is looking for.

Their knives and guns are piled underneath the last desk, furthest from the cells. Dean quickly grabs his knife and cuts the zip-ties around his ankles, and dives underneath the desk as he hears footsteps approaching and Sam starts coughing as a warning. Two guards are coming back into the room, and he pokes his head out quickly for an inspection. Grabbing their weapons, everything tucked into pockets in his pants and jacket, he watches them waiting for the right moment.

Sam has luckily just finished picking the cell door lock. With a swift move, he throws the cell door open with a push of his shoulder, swinging it to hit one of the demons in the face. The other is on him in an instant, pushing him back into the cell. Dean doesn't hesitate, moving quickly across the room. He throws Sam one of the angel blades while he focuses on the other demon. Dean moves silently, and stabs it through the back as he comes up behind it. He doesn't want to use guns to risk attracting more attention.

Dean darts over to Sam, who is on the ground wrestling with the second demon. Dean quickly stabs him too and cuts away the ties on Sam's ankles.

"That worked out," Dean says with a smirk.

"I'm pretty sure they were told not to kill us, otherwise it would have gone a little differently," Sam retorts, rubbing his ankles sorely.

"So now what? Where do you think Crowley has Cas?"

Sam shrugs his shoulders in response, "I guess we just start looking here first," to which Dean nods.

* * *

After searching and taking out multiple demons in the process, Sam and Dean find themselves outside of a small gym, where they have no doubt Castiel is being held. Dean resists covering his ears as he hears Castiel scream in pain, and instead crouches outside the doorway with Sam. There is one small window looking in, and it gives them very poor visibility.

"Look, there could be 10 demons in there, Dean, you sure we should go busting in alone?"

"Hey man, I know…but I've never heard Cas scream like that before, and I don't think we really have an option here. I'm not leaving here without, Cas," Dean says, narrowing his eyes at Sam for even thinking they would do that.

"I'd never say leave Cas behind, but you know, maybe we can get reinforcements or something?"

"Listen, Sammy, if it is too dangerous in there…I want you to get out. Don't stick around and try to be a hero. Get yourself out, you understand?"

Sam shakes his head sadly, "I'm not leaving you Dean, or Cas either for that matter. Do you have the bullets? We'll be fine."

Dean holds up his gun with a small smirk, "locked and loaded".

They don't bother leaving salt around the door, because it won't stop Crowley. The gun is their only chance, along with a little bit of luck and some perfectly timed teamwork. Dean can't help but think that they find themselves in these situations way too often and he hopes that they all make it out, because he can't imagine anything else right now.

With a nod from Sam, he throws open the door, running in and training his gun on Crowley. Sam covers him, quietly saying "we're alone" before sprinting across the gym floor towards Crowley.

"Boys, I should ha-" is all he can get out, before Dean shoots him with a bullet, square in the chest. Sam wastes no time, coming up behind Crowley with the rope from their bunker, laced with salt and inscribed with demon trapping symbols. Dean hesitates, looking at Castiel for a moment, but it is only a moment that Crowley needs. With a flick of his wrist, he throws Sam across the gym floor, where he lands with a loud thud. Dean doesn't need to see more, as he sprints towards Sam, who is knocked out cold. In anger, picks up the rope, looping it around his arm tightly.

Dean turns to look at Crowley, narrowing his eyes and turning down his mouth in disgust. "Do you know how long we've waited to gank you, Crowley?"

"I wouldn't count your chickens, blah blah however the saying goes," Crowley says with a smile and lifts his hand to wave goodbye. His eyes widen as he looks at Dean in shock. "What did you do?"

"Oh, this?" Dean says, waving his gun slightly. "Just a little trick we picked up in all our time hiding out recently. You see, we went way back too; found out how to trap a demon with a bullet. So you're ours now, Crowley."

Crowley's eyes betray him for just a moment as fear crosses through them, but it is only a moment before his smirk is plastered back on his face. He flicks his wrist again, throwing Dean across the gym floor where he lands close to Castiel. "Hey Cas, you ok?" Dean whispers, trying to ignore the obvious pain that Castiel must be in but he silently thanks someone for Cas not being in restraints anymore. He registers a small nod from Cas and that is all he needs. He drops one end of the rope by Castiel, hoping that they can somehow put their problems aside to work as a team.

"Please understand, please get the plan," is all Dean can repeat over in his head as he stands up, waiting for Crowley to throw him again. "Is that all you got!?" he taunts, hoping his false bravado isn't over the top. He needs Crowley to throw him again across the room, closer to Sam, and he needs to not be too injured to run he thinks as an afterthought. Luckily, Crowley bites, clearly at the end of his rope as well with his own movements hindered and unable to teleport away. He throws Dean across the room, a bit further than Dean would have liked, but he ignores the searing pain through his back and the possible broken ribs.

Dean sprints towards Crowley with the other end of the rope in his hand; his eyes meeting with Castiel's at the same time. They move in harmony, each one able to outmaneuver Crowley who is much slower than they are. They hit Crowley in unison, winding around him quickly, each bit of rope restraining each of his powers quickly. Dean ties the rope tightly into a knot, ignoring the profanities coming from Crowley. The blood in his ears is pounding so loudly, he isn't sure he can hear anything else. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Castiel slump over again, clutching at what appears to be a broken foot.

"Do it, Dean. I'm fine," Castiel says through gritted teeth on the ground. Dean doesn't need more encouragement than that, memories flooding his mind of the deal Crowley made with Castiel. The mere thought of them working together causes him to see red. He pulls out the angel blade, grinning menacingly at Crowley.

"Stop! Dean, you need me…I could help you boys…we-we've been through so much together."

"Shut it, Crowley. I've waited a long time for this," Dean snarls as he drives the knife through Crowley's chest.

Dean doesn't wait for more than a minute before pulling his knife back out and dropping Crowley back on the ground. He sprints towards Sam, waking him up and pulling him to his feet. "We need to go, Sammy. I got you."

He does the same for Castiel, each of them leaning on him in turn as he holds them up with him, moving as quickly as he can. For just a second, Dean looks back and can't help but smile. They won this time, for once, they won. He couldn't help but wonder "at what cost", but he supposed he would always wonder that. For now, Sam and Cas are both alive and he tucks them each into the back of the impala before peeling away and speeding towards their bunker, breaking every speed limit along the way. Someone must have been looking out for them, because they didn't get stopped once.

* * *

Dean drops onto the foot of his bed, careful to not disturb Castiel's broken foot. They'd tried to deal with all the injuries on their own, but Castiel needed a cast for his foot and so they'd taken a trip earlier to the local hospital, where Castiel got his first medical examination and he'd grumpily told Dean, "I hate humanity," which of course was a lie.

After that, they'd talked and it wasn't hard to forgive one another. In fact, Dean was shocked at how easy it was. He was just glad to have Castiel back and when he'd asked Castiel where his grace was, he'd told Dean that it didn't feel safe to carry around so he'd snuck back into the bunker one night (under the ruse of telling Sam he needed his clothing) and hidden it inside an old box in storage, sealed with protective magic. Dean had shaken his head and laughed, because it was so smart, so logical, and so Castiel; and of course his brother had helped conspire as well (perhaps without knowing it).

Now, Dean looks at castiel, a pained grin on his face as he grabs Castiel's hand away from itching at his cast. "Hey, if it hurts, let me know and I'll grab your pain meds for you."

Castiel only shakes his head, smiling widely at Dean. "It hurts, but I will be ok. I don't want to use any of the pain medications…ever." Dean widens his eyes, surprised at this, and he won't admit it but even a little relieved. The fact that Castiel broke his foot had been haunting his mind ever since the scuffle with Crowley, and it pained him to remember the Castiel that Zachariah had shown him…addicted to painkillers.

"Are you sure, Cas…I mean you aren't even used to this kind of…" Dean waves his hands around a bit, "human pain, I guess".

Castiel nods his head resolutely and takes Dean's hand in his and uses it to pull Dean on top of him. "I never want to be what you saw in the future, and this is my choice to make sure it definitely never happens."

Dean smiles and leans down, resting his forehead against Castiel's forehead. "I choose all of this, Dean. I want to be human…with you. Always," he whispers, his lips hovering above Dean's. That is all the invitation Dean needs before pressing his lips to Castiel's in a gentle but firm kiss, taking in the scent of his bodywash on Cas; the way Castiel is again wearing his favorite t-shirt and jeans that hang just slightly off his hips. Dean pulls back to look at Castiel, smiling widely, "is it took soon to make a joke about you falling for me, Cas?" he asks laughing. Castiel groans and pulls Dean into a tight embrace before saying, "I don't understand that reference", which leaves both of them shaking with laughter as they lie against one another.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you everyone for reading this; my first fic ever and it was a huge undertaking. I'm very proud to have finished it. I will be posting one more chapter, a coda if you will, which is really a bit of domestic fluff. Again, thank you for the comments and words of encouragement :)


	23. Coda

**Coda**: Let Me Give the World to You

After Castiel fell, one of the first things Dean wanted to do was teach him how to drive a car. Not just any car, the impala. Of course, this was after Castiel learned how to cook, because as Dean put it, he wasn't their "chef". So when Dean insisted that Castiel climb into the driver's seat, Castiel's palms immediately began to sweat and he cursed his human body for betraying him again.

"Dean, I don't think this is a good idea."

"Come on Cas, why not?"

"I could get us killed, it is not worth it," Castiel says flatly, turning to look at Dean, refusing to touch the keys that Dean is holding out to him. If Castiel knows one thing, he knows that a car weighs at least one ton, and that one small miscalculation could send them hurtling into another car or a tree, or anything in between. When Castiel looks at Dean, he is prepared to refuse again but instead Dean is looking out the window; the keys in his lap.

"I pretty much taught Sammy how to drive, and my dad let me try it out when I was 12. I was terrified and refused to do it again for another year until dad really started needing my help and he forced me to learn. He would clench his teeth and swear each time I hit the brakes too hard."

Castiel's eyes widen in surprise, for it is very rare that Dean openly discussed his childhood or his father. He slides his fingers over, grasping Dean's hand and squeezing, unsure of what other course of action to take. He wants Dean to continue. Even when Dean is talking about nothing important, he loves the sound of his voice; even more though, he loves when Dean willingly bares his soul, so Castiel holds his breathe waiting for Dean to continue.

Dean turns to look at Castiel, a soft smile on his lips. "I promise, Cas. I won't be like that. I'll teach you like I taught Sam, and if you really hate it, you can stop and we can wait."

Castiel pauses and again it hits him hard enough to nearly make him see stars; he can still see the way Dean's soul shines. The sun is streaming through the windows of the car and it creates a halo affect around Dean's hair, making it look much lighter. His green eyes sparkle and Castiel can see his freckles peeking out against fair skin. He nods slowly, gulping, as he takes the keys from Dean's lap, because he wants to give a little bit of that trust back to Dean too.

By mid-afternoon, Castiel has the basics down. He's refused to go over 30 mph, but he feels fairly safe going on a slow speed. His coordination isn't excellent, but not terrible either. As they pull onto a deserted road, Dean encourages him to go faster. "I promise, Cas, you will love it."

Castiel puts his trust in Dean again, pressing down harder on the gas pedal, allowing it to inch near the 40mph ticker. "Ok, now roll down your window," Dean says as he rolls his down and the car fills with a gust of wind the loud sound of air flying by.

"Dean! I can't take my hands off the wheel!"

"Here, I'll hold on to it, you roll down the window with one hand and keep the other on the wheel. Hurry, do it."

Castiel lets out an exasperated sigh, but does it because he secretly thinks the wind does feel nice. He hopes Dean doesn't say anything about how they are back to going 30mph again, but he doesn't. Castiel rolls down the window quickly, holding his breath the entire time and keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

After the window is open, and Castiel surges back up to 40mph, a wide grin spreads across his face. He doesn't realize as they move faster, because it suddenly feels like flying again, if he can just ignore the metal body surrounding them. He looks at Dean, very briefly, and laughs before keeping his eyes trained on the road ahead.

As they return home, Dean is driving. He figured Castiel would want to ride in the passenger seat with the windows open this time. Castiel leans his head slightly outside of the window, a large grin on his face.

"Hey, careful, Cas. No body parts outside of the car," Dean warns with a smile, and Castiel obliges. This time he lets the wind flow through his hair as he watches Dean drive; the ease that spreads over his face and the calm that sets into his bones. For the first time, he can understand why driving means to much to Dean; it feels like flying.

* * *

It was very soon after Castiel fell that Dean came back to the bunker with a cell phone for Castiel.

"Here Cas, I figured you need one of those now. You remember how to use it right?" He says as he tosses a heavy silver phone into Castiel's lap and Castiel picks it up, flipping it open.

"Of course, Dean."

"Awesome. Well, just don't go racking up the bill with text messages like Sam."

Castiel looks up at Dean again, who appears to be in a slightly foul mood. He can only assume it is because Dean had to go shopping, or maybe he is annoyed with Sam for some reason. He can never be sure. Tilting his head to the side, he ventures to ask, "What is text messaging? I believe I have only ever used calls on a cell phone before."

Dean turns around, a smile on his face this time, "It's easy. I'll show you. Like I said, don't use it too much but it can be handy." Dean grabs the phone from Castiel's hand and Castiel notices as their fingers meet, there is a slight bit of hesitation from both of them. Dean pulls a chair close to Castiel, and Castiel pretends not to notice that he can smell Dean's aftershave and nearly count the flecks of gold in eyes when they meet his.

Dean plays with the phone for a minute, adding in the contacts for Castiel. It doesn't take long; they don't know many people these days. He adds his name, Sam's, Garth's, and then Charlie's for good measure…just in case. He frowns slightly and goes back to edit his own name, adding an asterisk in front of it so that it shows up first in Castiel's contacts lists. He's not sure why it matters, but he doesn't dwell on it.

"Here, Cas. I put everyone's phone numbers in here for you," he says as he shows Castiel the address book, and how to pull up the menu. "Texting is just writing out a message rather than calling. So each key has three letters it corresponds to, like this," he says as he shows Castiel how to type out a message.

"Try to send me a text," he tells Castiel, pushing the phone back into his hands.

"What do I say?" Castiel asks, frowning slightly.

"It doesn't matter, Cas! Anything. I just wanna make sure you know how to use it," Dean says, waving his hands around in annoyance.

_Cas__

**Thank. phone.**

A minute later, Dean's phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, a small smile pulling across his face and he laughs lightly. "Good enough. Just make sure to use the space bar and you'll be fine." He types out a quick reply on his own phone before walking back to the kitchen to make them dinner.

_*Dean__

**Anytime, Cas :)**

Castiel isn't sure why, but his heart leaps just the smallest bit at that and he thinks that he really likes texting.

* * *

A few weeks have passed since the whole Crowley incident, and life has moved on in a very pleasant manner. Castiel's foot is still in a cast, but he uses crutches to get around and the pain was never anything he couldn't handle. He quickly found that the easiest way to subdue any pain was to tell Dean, and he would immediately be covered by Dean's body, who promised he'd "make it better" with kisses and other promises of the sexual nature. Castiel had no objection to this either, and it wasn't like he abused his power…much.

They'd finally bought a TV too, and invited Charlie to stop by and help them break it in. So that was how they spent a whole weekend watching The Lord of the Rings trilogy, extended edition. When it was over, Castiel couldn't help but ask about the books, wanting to know more of the story. He also had a sneaking suspicion that it was one of Dean's favorites, or at least Dean referenced it enough to be.

"Do we have the books here, Dean?" he asked, hoping that they did.

"Of course!" he exclaimed, jumping up from the couch where he was nestled between Charlie and Castiel. He brought back five books, dropping them onto the coffee table in front of them.

"Woah, what's this, Winchester?" Charlie said, eyeing Dean suspiciously as she picked up one of the larger books. "Have you read The Silmarillion, Dean? Really?" She says with a pleasant laugh.

Sam laughed as well but kept his mouth shut when Dean shot him a look. "Hey, it's a cool book."

"Ya, I wouldn't have thought you'd like the _history_ of Middle Earth, Dean," Sam retorts with a wide grin. It was rare he got to tease Dean back about being a nerd.

"Ignore them, Cas. You should read it. The story about Beren and Luthien is my favorite," Dean says as he runs his hands over the worn cover of the book.

"Wowww," Charlie says, bringing her hand to her mouth, "you are so obvious man, really."

"Hey, there's dragons and a whole friggen army of balrogs…don't judge. It's awesome." Dean says, grumpily sitting back down next to Castiel and wrapping his arm around his waist, pulling him closer.

A week later as Dean crawls into bed next to Castiel, a small smile crosses his face. Dean is careful not to knock into Castiel's foot, and he tries not to complain since they've had to switch sides of the bed to keep Castiel's foot from being bumped around at night. Instead, Dean crawls up slow, running his hands up Castiel's stomach.

Castiel looks at him and grins, putting his book down. He pulls Dean closer, almost on top of him and smiles even wider. Dean looks up, through his eyelashes and kisses Castiel on the mouth, gently, before pulling away again.

"Hey Cas, when I was in high school, actually it was the last high school I went to…we had to read Lord of the Rings for class. English was the only class I could do really well in without trying, but I read the books anyway and I loved them, you know. But then we moved and I didn't get to talk about it in class, and it was the last high school before I dropped out. So I read everything else I could get my hands on…so uhh…I like that you are reading it too."

"I read the story, Dean. About Beren and Luthien," Castiel says quietly, wrapping his arms tighter around Dean, pulling him further onto his chest.

"I loved it. I understand why you like it too, Dean."

"Oh, and why is that?" Dean says with a small laugh.

"She chose to be mortal, to be with the one she loves. I think I understand that."

"At least I get to be the dude in it," Dean says with a growl, pulling himself full on top of Castiel, running his hands through his dark hair and pulling on it to tilt Castiel's head up to meet his lips. Gingerly, he kisses Castiel on the lips, before sinking into a more powerful kiss that leads to me, as it always does with them. As Castiel had learned early on, Dean is a tactile man, and Castiel couldn't say that he wasn't the same.

* * *

**A/N**: Thank you for reading! Here is the full tracklist since this was written specifically with certain music in mind and obviously the title! The full playlist can be found on youtube: / watch?v=Iugr-yPgQgQ&list=PLONmctsudSI9x7DSX5ZBeVaPKVW12rpBT

**Full fic tracklist**:

What Makes a Man- City and Color

With a Little Help from My Friends- Across the Universe Soundtrack

Undisclosed Desires- Muse

Constant Knot- City and Color

My Favorite Book- Stars

Until We Bleed-Kleerup

You Are the Moon-Hush Sound

First Day of My Life- Bright Eyes

Sleeping Sickness- City and Color

Arc of Time- Bright Eyes

In My Life-The Beatles

Spin- Lifehouse

Baptized by Fire- Spinnerette

Hide and Seek- Imogen Heap

Song Beneath the Song- Maria Taylor

Falling Down-Oasis

Lost (acoustic)- Coldplay

Perfect- Smashing Pumpkins

We Intertwined- Hush Sound

Stigmatized-The Calling

Galapagos- Smashing Pumpkins

Broken- Jake Bugg

The Call-Regina Spektor

Love Will Come Through- Travis

Let Me Give the World to You- Smashing Pumpkins


End file.
